Vacant
by 1Past and Present1
Summary: There has been a cataclysmic event. All colours have been sucked from the surface world. Corpses litter the streets. Monsters hunt for bodies still warm. Two dysfunctional allies must work together if they want to survive. Where are the Heroes, now?
1. Chapter 1

**Vacant**

It seems I am back. For how long, I don't know. I sure hope the fandom hasn't changed too radically while I was wandering, doing things… elsewhere. Just curious, but does anybody remember me? Anyway, if we haven't met before, hi! Nice to meet you.

I haven't written anything Sonic related in ages. I suddenly got the urge again. And the result is typically 'cheerful'. Note, not the usual Sonic flavour. And more than one chapter for a change. It won't be a long story, but it is not my usual one-shot nonsense. So that's nice.

I hope you enjoy this start to another tale, my friends. Review if you like. PM if you want. I'd love to hear from you regardless.

* * *

**One**

"That's seriously unhealthy for you, by the way."

I look up from my newspaper to meet with the green gaze of the hedgehog girl seated opposite. She smiles sweetly and I narrow my eyes at her.

"What's that look for? I'm just being honest."

I remain silent, taking a slow, deliberate drag of my cigarette before letting the smoke out through my nose in answer. The silver plumes are quite attractive in this lighting.

Amy shakes her head and proceeds to sip her hot chocolate, savouring the mouthful for a moment before swallowing and gently replacing the mug, followed shortly after by her retort. "Don't say I never warned you when your fingers turn yellow, you can't get the smell out your hair and you cough up a lung."

I manage a grin with the butt gritted neatly between my teeth. "You need a man to mother, girl."

She almost frowns. Almost, but not quite. She barely maintains that cheerful expression and pretends she never heard me. It's the meds she's taking. Her happy pills. And she dares tease my smoking habit.

"Pity Sonic's boning the princess," I remark offhandedly, chewing the butt with satisfaction when I see something flicker in her eyes and finally, she does frown.

She purses her lips. Her expression tells me I've gone too far that time, but she might be willing to forgive when she's done thinking about it. Finished imagining smashing my head to the table.

Chuckling, I then resume my browsing, brushing away some ash from the latest headliner. "Oh, look. Another dead hooker. This guy's been busy."

"Why do I hang out with you?"

I ponder the question, but don't care to answer her.

"You're a nasty person. Mostly. But I know you've got a lot of love to give. There's a real person underneath all that makeup." She sounds wistful as she says this, like she wants me to get up and pull her into my arms so we can dance the evening away. "You've grown so sour with age, Rouge. I sometimes wonder if I sit with you because I feel sorry for you, not because I enjoy your company. Because, most of the time, I don't."

I swallow, my grip on the newspaper tightening. Tightening steadily. Soon I'm clenching the bland pages in my fists and I can't read the edges anymore because of all the ugly wrinkles. I despise wrinkles. I despise being reminded of how I'm getting old.

"But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I really do enjoy our time together. I guess I just wish you'd-"

"What?"

She smiles more softly at my aggressive interjection. She knows I do it because I've been stung. "Stop being so angry."

"I'm not angry." I scoff, shaking my head at her absurd logic. The motion showers ash and I loosen my grip to swipe the flakes away. She always gets too close to me. To the point. She always pokes me where it hurts and tries to stroke the wound afterwards. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Grouchy," she corrects gently. "You're grouchy. All the time, too. When you're not angry. That's why you picked up smoking, I think. Gives you something to do while you silently fume inside. Makes you look badass while you grouch, and you grouch a lot."

I pluck the cigarette from my lips, looking it over forlornly before my expression turns to scorn and I lean over, dropping it in her hot chocolate. "Guess you're right about that."

"Oh. Now that was mean." She sighs, drumming her fingers over the table. "Gonna pay for that?"

"I always pay anyway," I mutter, digging in my pocket until producing my wallet. I never was much for handbags.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't always say what I think."

"No, no. I appreciate that trait about you. You're honest. Probably the reason why I stand your bubbly bullshit and don't dump your ass like Sonic did."

She winces and I stand, satisfied. Again, I got the last word on her. Like I naturally do. I pressed my finger to the sore spot and dug right in, and I like to lick my finger and watch the wound bleed out afterwards. She'll hide the pain. She thinks it'll help this thing we're having, this relationship.

I fold the newspaper and tuck it under my arm, prepared to leave. "Bye, Amy."

"Bye, Rouge," she replies quietly, distantly. Nursing the sore spot, now a gaping hole.

With a pat on her bowed head – because a part of me really does care – I walk away, leaving her to regard her ruined hot chocolate and lament about her losses.

"You should call him," she tells my retreating figure, and for a second there, I stop. I stop and think about it.

"Why?" I ask finally, humouring the girl. Woman, I internally correct myself. But I still see her as the girl. The girl chasing a man she didn't know she'd never have. The girl in short skirts and always full of fire before the world got heavy and Cream grew up. She thought she could trust leaning on me for support. That she could support my deadweight in turn and it would be mutually beautiful. I think I crush her a little, sometimes. And I have a habit of dropping things.

"He'd love to hear from you," is the simple reply. I've heard it a thousand times before. "He's got a daughter, you know. Don't you want to meet her?"

My chest aches. With a snort I'm right back to walking, and I realise I did not get the last blow this round. I have no fight left, no clever stab. I haven't spoken to Knucklehead in years and I don't plan to now, and I have a lovely bed waiting for me at home and a shelf full of cigarettes and cabinet filled with booze.

Amy is such a clever thing. I still don't know whether I hate her or not. And she's pretty. Younger than me. Less marks from the wars we've fought. She hasn't known fighting like I have. All considered, I should hate her, but there's something that stops me.

"Too tired to hate the brat," I tell myself, shrinking to hide my face in the collar of my jacket so the passersby don't by chance recognise the white bat with an aching heart and crooked wing drifting past. Grounded like the rest of them, god's envious gift stolen by a bad fall. "I hate walking, god."

And god is silent, but I like to think he hears me and is nodding his head kindly.

A high-pitched whine draws my eyes overhead and I watch as the sky lights up, filled with all imaginable colours. I feel the old urge again and I drop my newspaper, then reach up, as if to steal a piece of the sky, just as it crumbles and all falls down around our heads. Jewels. So many.

I feel like I'm burning. The ground quakes, then cracks apart and I narrowly skip aside as a cavern is torn open, splitting the sidewalk and spreading its crooked fingers, upsetting cars on the formerly quiet street. Now there's much noise and I find myself turning on the spot, awestruck, watching skyscrapers shatter, then topple and fall.

A hand grips my arm and I whip around to stare into Amy's face. She's bleeding, a shard of glass wedged deep in her eyebrow and screwing one of her eyes shut. She's saying something. I can't hear her over all the other voices.

For the first time in years I feel real concern about somebody. About something. I don't get the chance to cup her cheek. Though I wanted to.

She pulls me frantically and I stupidly follow her lead. Then I remember how to run by myself. Together, we forget about the terrified populace and care only for our survival. We're partners in this. Responsible. Like a real relationship this time.

I instinctively spread my wings and struggle to beat them, gaining enough lift to pick us off the ground and hurl us over a car conveniently flipped by a crack in the road and sent skidding toward us, sparks flying, showering hot. Clumsily we land on the other side and windows explode as a building collapses, and my wings find a new purpose as organic shields to guard our faces from the blast. It hurts. I don't think I'll even glide after this. Assuming we live.

Everything is tipping over, the ground is churning, and it's getting increasingly hard to dodge all the falling stone gargoyles and office chairs and computers and people. We cannot hear our own laboured breaths and we cannot stop to help the kid standing transfixed on the corner, lollipop slowly slipping from grubby fingers, unaware of the ocean of concrete sweeping the shore at his back. A second later, and he's gone with the wave.

We duck into the subway. It's probably going to trap us. Suicide, surely. We should be crushed. A quick death, maybe. But when we can't run anymore and we huddle in a filthy bathroom stall, wrapped in each other, sobbing and praying, and the chaos around us finally subsides and the dust has settled, we are still alive. We wait a while, panting, her face buried in my shoulder and mine in her soft, ruined quills flecked with blood. Then we get brave and open the door, venturing outside the impossibly intact bathroom.

"Oh my god," Amy whispers before her hand moves to her mouth, half covering it.

"I think he heard us last time." My eyes sweep the rubble then find their way to her injured brow. The world doesn't matter. I'm solely focused on the one thing closest to a friend I have left and she is injured. Mind not quite working right, I state the blatantly obvious with zero tact whatsoever. "You have glass in your face."

She nods. "I know. It hurts."

"We should fix that."

"Make it quick."

I grit my teeth, reach out to her, and yank out the glass.

She shrieks and covers her weeping, bloody face.

"Sorry!" I drop the moderate shard and stumble back. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!"

Suddenly she's quiet, wiping her eyes until her gloves are stained brilliant red at the fingers.

"Amy?" I query nervously, and it sounds amazingly weird with my deep, husky voice. At least that hasn't left me with my increasing age and experience.

She rights herself calmly, appearing surprised. Blinking, she blearily refocuses her eyes to meet with mine, managing a slight smile as she digests my horrified expression. "It wasn't so bad, actually. I think I overreacted a little." Happy pills.

I gawp at her. "Okay…"

"I'm not blind!" she exclaims. "That's incredible!"

"Okay…"

Her arms fall back to her sides and abruptly she looks miserable. "We should look for survivors," she mumbles. "Maybe we can help a few people. We weren't very heroic before."

"Okay…"

"Come." Once more she takes my arm and I simply let her lead me through the debris of the mostly ruined subway. We negotiate our way to the outside world and find it sharp, bold, all colour stolen, leaving everything rendered as black and white with hard lines, bright lights and dark shadows. Except for us, we quickly notice when we share a disbelieving look, hugging ourselves with a shared shudder. It is now bitterly cold.

A far more chilling moment of silence passes where we study our environment in appalled awe.

"Holy guacamole."

I marvel at a toppled bulletin board. Colour absent, the text is an almost unrecognisable mess, as is the smiling face accompanying a box of cereal. "Let's start searching," I suggest and she nods, joining me.

"What happened out here?" she asks the ground while we move to explore the wreckage of a bus for survivors. We force open the doors and climb inside, gingerly tapping the driver with his face smashed against the windscreen before asserting that he is dead and moving on, seat by seat. None of the people we jostle respond, and they're as cold and colourless as everything else. They're like an agonised charcoal sketch on paper.

"The light in the sky must've done something." I stroke a pretty girl's cheek and she remains peaceful. I'd have liked to get to know her better, if she were still alive. I admire her a second longer before lowering my attention to spot her delicate chain necklace with a tiny diamond – or crystal, it's hard to tell – heart adorning it, dangling listlessly. It's nestled safely between her breasts and I have to silently scream at myself not to wrench it off her pretty neck and claim it for my own.

"Think it was Eggman?"

"This seems a little extreme for Eggman."

"He's been quiet for years. Maybe… maybe he's making a bid for the world again, but seriously this time..."

"Possibly. But it's not his style. He'd want us to confront him. He'd announce himself. And how did these people end up like this, but we didn't? We saw the light too. Perhaps a shockwave happened and we were sheltered sufficiently…"

Dear god, I sound so stupid. I'm sorry.

She shrugs and gives up trying to wake an elderly badger, taking the empty seat beside him for her own. The dirt under her boots is like ash. She looks frightened now, then hopeless, avoiding my eyes as I sit down in the opposite row, beside the pretty stranger's body. "Oh, what will we do? What if Sonic… Sonic…" Her eyes well with tears, somewhat pink due to her continuous bleeding. She turns to me, begging for comfort. She really looks like that little girl again. Like we've gone back in time. "Do you think he's hurt, Rouge? Do you think he's…?"

I sigh. And then I do one of the things I'm naturally good at. I lie. "I'm sure he's just fine. Probably out there rescuing people right now."

The little girl I still imagine Amy to be nods and wipes her eyes. "Yes. Yes, you're right. Sonic is fine."

"Mmhm."

"And I bet Knuckles is just fine, too."

I say nothing. But god, I sure hope so.

She talks to me for a while, and I listen, more or less. Then she grows tired. She closes her eyes, but does not sleep. She quietly bleeds while shivering, and I contemplate whether I ought to offer her my jacket. It's filled with bits of glass. They might cut her. I'm not that heartless.

I instead let her be cold and begin the laborious process of picking at my shredded wings. It burns. I'm internally grateful when she doesn't try to comfort me. She knows I prefer to suffer alone, on my own terms. And it'll be over soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

"Rouge," echoes a hushed whisper beyond the realm of sleep. "Wake up. Rouge."

I groan and open my eyes to find Amy anxiously leaning over me. When I begin to question her she presses a finger to her lips and points to the window above my head.

"Outside," she mouths. "Something. Outside." Thankfully she is still pink, even if the backdrop is still hauntingly plain. Her brow sports an ugly gash but her eyes are bright and intelligent as ever. She has lovely eyes. I'm sure I've told her that once or twice.

I frown and carefully shift myself. I realise I fell asleep with my head in the pretty girl's lap. I was comfortable. I slept on her corpse and it was restful. I quickly abandon this disturbing notion. It doesn't matter.

Amy squeezes my shoulder, appearing greatly concerned. Almost frightened.

A scraping sound, like a knife being dragged, cuts a swath of trepidation that fills the cramped bus.

I slowly crawl over the pretty corpse. Folding my ears back I stretch, peeking at the world outside from the corner of a cracked window. My jaw drops.

Meters away from us, just down the other side of the street, we watch some creature, some worm thing, far bigger than a human, its flesh mottled and appearing moist, like a tongue. It seems interested in the bus. The bus we're in. Yet it stays back, apparently studying its surroundings. I can only hope it's not interested in us too and is merely curious, because that fucker looks dangerous and I don't want to find out it eats bats. And hedgehogs too, on reflection.

The worm turns away for a moment, letting me view its coiled body sidelong. Bones are exposed where the flesh is thin and its head is blunt, featureless. Armoured from behind by a bony spine shimmering with thorny, moving protrusions, the worm lies on its belly, movements lethargic. Lacking anything I could consider eyes I presume it relies on the single limb extending from its front like an angler fish, tapping the ground, scratching at it, sending the slightest vibrations I would have not noticed if my nose was not so near the rattling glass, fogged by my breaths.

A cold breeze makes me shiver, and it brings with it a revolting smell. I pull away slowly and lay a hand on Amy's bent knee. "How long has it been there?" I ask her, forming the words slowly and without noise.

"I don't know. I woke up and heard something. Looked outside. There it was."

"Has it moved?"

She shakes her head. "Not really."

I frown at myself and turn back to the window. I normally am a light sleeper, thanks to these ears of mine. I should have woken up sooner with that thing being outside, making that annoyingly creepy racket, smelling so bad. Yet she had to wake me up. I don't think I even dreamt. No idea how long I was out. It looks like morning. I guess it doesn't matter.

Suddenly the worm swings back and begins to move, slithering closer toward the bus with haste. The nearer the worm thing gets, the more intense the vibrations become and the more dizzying the pungent odour grows. The worm thing is heading straight for us now, bold and almost with visible eagerness. Like it knows exactly what it's looking for. It moves amazingly quickly.

I duck fast, heart thundering. "Shit."

"What do we do?" She's seen the same thing and crouches along with me.

"Stay low. Hope it doesn't-"

The bus lurches with an almighty bang, then screeches, metal buckling inward. Like a bull had rammed into it.

Together we and the corpses are thrown back, slamming against each other, piling on the other side as the bus is lifted, then toppled over, windows shattering. The floor of the bus is now a wall, benches projected sideways, and glass showers us like rain.

The pretty corpse is all over me. A cold, fleshy blanket filled with bones, shielding me from the glass, her diamond heart pressing into my shoulder. A tiny, painful spot. I squirm to grip it and rip it away, then marvel at the chain wrapped around my fingers, fist clenched around my prize with iron strength, the taunting little heart hanging beautifully from my raised hand. I haven't stolen in years. I have a choice to make.

"Rouge! Help me, I'm stuck!"

I pocket it and push the body away, seeking Amy in the heap of colourless flesh. I find her hand clawing the air and I grab it, pulling. I grunt and lurch when the bus is slammed into again, my boot catching on some man's pale cheek, pressing in. It's a gruesome sight. I feel a little sick with myself for standing on the guy's face. But it's not important.

I barely manage to unearth her head before white light suddenly floods the previously dim space, drawing our eyes back to watch the floor of the bus get peeled partially away like an opened can, leaving a small gap exposing us to the stench and looming worm beyond, now perched on its tail, reared like a snake.

Its ribcage splits down the middle and opens wide to bare gruesome innards and masses of tendrils sporting sharp claws, flying out the gaping entrance, swinging wildly. A corpse is impaled and lifted from the mountain, only to be tossed aside and exchanged for another, this process repeated again and again with blinding swiftness. Bodies are sent flying randomly in all directions and the pile is quickly thinning.

Amy and I share a scream. We've both realised the horrible truth. That thing's interested in us, not the dead people. It's picking through the dead people until we are found. Neither of us is happy with the idea of being worm food. This is plenty of motivation to get out fast.

We burst clumsily from the corpses and clamber over them, pushing each other forward, fighting to reach the windshield at the front. She curses loudly – something she really hates doing – when one of the worm's toothed guts implants itself in a nearby seat's cushioning, ripping a deep gash. It yanks hard and the bench is wrenched away completely, then flung aside, soaring upward to smash through a window above our heads, halfway in, halfway out. Threatening to fall on us as we struggle to regain our footing below.

I catch myself and cough when she instinctively wraps her arms around my neck. I thank the strength of my legs as I keep climbing over scattered bodies and shards of glass regardless, piggybacking her over the chaos, steps uneven, faces crushed beneath my heel, hands desperately grasping, neck choked. She will pay later.

The windshield is close now. A matter of steps away. Dislodged from his seat the driver dangles clumsily from his noose, his tie caught in the steering wheel, body bending to fit in crevices. Blood oozes down the sideways windscreen in fine rivulets from where he had hit his head.

I momentarily pause, sinking my nails into bits of glass below as I bend myself, halfway crouching like a coiled spring while her legs wrap around my waist for grip, and suddenly, I push myself hard, vaulting my body off a chair's backing for momentum. My wings spread and I feel almost like I'm flying. One final, desperate burst of speed for a kick I haven't performed in a very long time. I remember, while pretending to fly at very high speed toward a wall of glass, how I'd tried some of my moves recently to show off for a guy I was going to screw anyway. I'd fallen on my ass. I cannot fail now. No falling. Just like the old days, the days I was young and vibrant and there were no wrinkles. I hate wrinkles.

"Holy guacamole! Waaaaah!"

"Hold on!"

She buries her face behind my head and my arms fly upward to shield my face as I turn on my heel, swiftly spinning while still in motion, objects shattering to admit my other leg in this cramped space, extending to its full length, muscles clenching and heavy boot swinging wide.

I haven't felt this alive in years. "Fuck!"

Glass shatters and we burst through, losing our lift to hit the street beyond. Actually, I hit the street. On my face. Amy is safely atop my back, pinning me to the asphalt. Fortunately my ass feels fine.

"Rouge!"

I groan and she gets off me, quickly yanking me to my feet.

"We gotta go!"

"I know, dammit. Gimme a sec…"

"Now!"

I hiss and she pulls me into a run, my leg throbbing, face wet. Tentatively I press my palm to it and there are speckles of blood and dirt left on my gloves, as well as fine shards of glass in my fingers, trapped under the nails. Now I'm going to look even more scarred. "Great."

The worm lunges after us. I catch a glimpse over my shoulder. But we are too fast and after a while we lose it in the ruins of the city.

We run until we reach a small flower shop still standing, and a swing of her hammer knocks the door in so we can recover inside. She apologetically props the door back in place and looks sheepish while I sit on the floor, quietly grumbling.

"That was really, really close."

"Motherfucker."

"You okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"Gee, sorry. We just survived a worm attack and you're still grouchy."

"No, no, seriously. How do I look?"

She blinks, casting the display glass a cautious glance to check for any more worms before lowering herself before me and gently fingering my face. "A little bad. But badass, too. Just cuts and you'll have a nice bruise tomorrow. You know how awesome that was? What you did back there, I mean. You saved us from a nasty fight."

"Honestly, I didn't know I still had it in me." I manage a smirk and she smiles back kindly. "Not bad for an old lady, eh?"

"You're still capable of delivering a nasty kick. Trust me. I can see that spark in your eye."

"Spark?"

"Your ass-kicking spark. It's still there. It never left."

My smirk changes into a genuine smile and I almost think of giving her a hug because she's made me feel a little better. Instead I scoff at her. Hugging is not a thing I like doing. "Yeah, well, gotta have something, right? I'm flightless and my leg is screaming like a bitch. So we'll see how well that spark you speak of holds out."

She gently probes my leg. "It's not broken, I think. Wiggle your toes."

"They're wiggling."

"You should be fine, then. Not gonna ask you to take your pants off so I can examine you properly."

"Aaaw. You sure?"

She lightly slaps my shoulder and shakes her head, faking a disapproving frown. I can tell she's just too happy to be alive to throttle me like she ought to. Like she would have when we were younger.

"Sorry." I shrug. "I couldn't resist that one. You left yourself open."

With a cheerily longsuffering sigh she moves to explore the shop, leaving me right where I am. "It's so freaky looking at flowers without any colour," she calls and I turn to watch her. "But they smell lovely."

I roll my eyes. Of course she's moved right to the bouquets of roses on display, sniffing them, stroking their intact petals. She continues to chat with me and I silently thank her for being around. I know if it wasn't for her I'd have been dead when the skyscrapers first started falling.

"And it's amazing, really. The shop is untouched. No theft, even. Windows still intact. The door was locked."

"Until you smashed it."

She ignores me, moving to the next rose. "I wonder where the owner is. Must've gone out for coffee or something. The sign said closed. Oh, these are gorgeous. Black roses, that's a first. But I like the red ones better. Black makes them so melancholy. I hope the colours come back soon."

"Nothing kills your happiness. We could be stripped and locked in fluffy shackles, tirelessly pulling Eggman's pimp chariot uphill and it wouldn't kill your mood."

She giggles. "Too old to be grouchy like you."

"You're not old. You're in your thirties. And you act like a kid often enough. Got that going for you."

"You sound jealous, my friend."

I take a deep breath and hold it. I am. But I'll never say it to her face.

"I just try to stay optimistic. You take things and frown at them if they don't bend to your will, and you don't stop frowning. Ever. You just mask it."

"You know an awful lot about me."

"It's a summary of my observations." She plucks a rose from its family and holds it to her chest, stepping back to direct her gaze up at the ceiling with a visible air of longing. "I hope he comes for us soon…"

"Sonic?"

"Yeah. I hope he makes everything right really soon."

I manage to fold my utterly trashed wings without using any bad words. That's if he is alive, I tell myself internally. And he's survived a lot. Maybe I was wrong to assume the worst. But I wonder whether his wife and kids could have survived, or at least, some of his family. I then shudder at the thought. Imagining those cute brats dead doesn't sit right with me.

"And when he saves the world again, I hope maybe he'll…" Her voice falters, losing its musical, uplifting lilt of joy. "No, he's married. I keep forgetting that part."

I bite my lip and stare at my reflection in the floor for a moment, studying my battered face, then dare a glance back in her direction. She looks so crestfallen and I hate it when she pouts like that. It makes me angry and uncomfortable. Caught between slapping her and holding her. But I won't hurt her this time. Not for something as petty as a broken heart. "Everyone has the right to hope, Amy."

She perks up again, like what I've said means everything will magically change. Then she realises it's coming from me, and she looks at me with surprise. "Are you saying I shouldn't give up on us?"

"You never did."

"Well, true. But you sounded like… I dunno. Like you think we do have a chance. You know I still love him."

"You always will." Unfortunately. Still, I leave that part out, to spare her.

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

"I think you're crazy. But you're the sweet, bubbly, tenacious kind of crazy. Your lingering affections aren't quite so scary anymore, like they used to be. Back when you used to stalk him."

"I didn't stalk him! I just… guarded him. Made sure he was always safe whenever I could."

"Stalking. I still call that stalking."

She beams good-naturedly at me. "Hey."

"What?"

"Thanks."

I wave a hand. "For…?"

"For trying to be nice. It looks good on you."

I huff. "Everything looks good on me."

"I guess so."

I don't say anything more.

"Rouge?" she asks softly, now, slowly making her way toward me. "May I sit with you?"

"Duh. You usually do."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

She carefully sits down beside me, and we study the world outside through glass.

"I'm glad I've got you here with me," she says sweetly after a minute of silence. "This would be really scary if I was all by myself. At least I know you'll be there to tell me to watch out for the face hugging aliens. Not an invasion without those."

I swallow, but it does not dislodge the lump in my throat. "Same here, girl."

Thank god I'm not in this alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Hi.

I want to take a moment to thank all of you wonderful readers who've been kind enough to review my work thus far. Your constructive criticism is much appreciated, and quite honestly, needed. This story is getting scant attention and I need all the encouragement I can get, as well as insight. Bless you guys.

Please note, the plot does not follow official canon and is not concrete in any single universe (comics, games, previous fanfics by me, etc). I'm just using the characters, locations and such. It stands alone. Alternate universe, if you will.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

* * *

"We can't just sit here." Amy paces the flower shop restlessly, stroking her massive hammer as if the weapon soothes her somehow. That would be understandable, knowing what she is capable of doing with it when mad enough. "We need to find our friends. We need to do something about all this."

I sit, largely motionless save for my following eyes and constantly seeking ears, twitching at every scuff of her boots on the linoleum. "I know."

"I hate being useless."

"Yep."

She agitatedly scratches her quills, grumbling something.

I silently console her. We've been sitting in the flower shop for over an hour, according to my watch. Recuperating. Summoning our courage. Amy does the summoning; I just sit here, listening to her talk, thinking about monstrous worms tossing cold corpses and hot red echidnas in the distance, somewhere out of sight, out of reach. A daughter I don't even know beyond a baby photograph.

"We're heroes!" she exclaims suddenly, stomping her heel as she stops her mindless pacing. "We fight! We have been through worse things than this, haven't we?"

I chew my lip. "No, not really. There's considerably more dead people and broken buildings…"

She groans, giving me a tired look. "You're not helping, here."

I shrug. "Sorry. Go on."

She's right back into her tangent, speaking passionately, if quietly. "I mean, we shouldn't be hiding in here, like this. Scared. We should be out there, looking for Sonic and saving the world with him. We should be doing our hero thing!"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure, it's been a lifetime since we last did anything heroic. Sure, maybe we're a little rusty, and yeah, maybe we're a little older and we have no idea what's going on. But we're still here and we are still heroes! Right, Rouge?"

I blink in that placid way I've perfected over the years. "Right-o."

She grins, but the gesture soon falters. Her honesty shows through. "But, at the same time…"

"We're a little fucked."

"Well…" Her voice lowers as she sends a fearful glance at the world beyond the glass pane, outside our little flower shop somehow still standing. "I don't really want to go out there. I don't want to see what's happened, you know? It's really horrible. And I don't want to see another one of those weird… things. The worm thing with the… the sharp appendages… smells really bad…"

I nod mutually, then turn away, eyes rolling over my shoulder. I think about my body. I think about how my leg is still screaming at me. How my beautiful, precious wings are tragic vestiges now. I think about my wrinkles. It seems every war takes something else from me. I would bathe in the blood of slaughtered virgins if it guaranteed complete renewal. To be young and soaring again. "Life sucks, god."

He reaches down through rays of white sunlight and touches my shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Amy."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Want to, umm… talk about it? We've been through a lot. I dunno, maybe it'd help for you to voice your concerns. And I'm a good listener."

"You are." My gaze flickers toward her. Pretty young thing. I wonder if she's a virgin. I suspect she could never give herself away to any other man but her Sonic. It's sad, honestly. Sex was what kept me going those lonely nights. That and alcohol.

She lowers her hammer to the floor with a soft, resonating thud, propping herself on the handle with arms folded, leaning slightly toward me. Her face is handsome and kind. "I won't judge you, and I promise not to be brutally honest this time. I'll never tell anybody. You can say what you like. It's okay."

I grit my teeth. "We have to go outside."

"Well, okay. We do. But the fighting can wait a moment, if you want to-"

"I don't."

We're quiet for a moment. Staring at each other.

"Rouge." Her voice is pleading.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go. This place is giving me the creeps."

She sighs, then nods, righting herself to swing the hammer over her shoulder easily, no strain. She offers me a hand. "Here, let me help you up. Can you walk?"

"I can. And that won't be necessary." I hiss with pain, my pride willing my aching body to move. I push myself to stand. I will myself and manage a step toward the door, a step away from her. Then another, and another, my stride evening out as I get used to the soreness. Just like in war. I never asked for help before and she's seen me vulnerable too many times. The hole is still there and I don't want her to stroke it closed. "Come on, let's go be heroes." Or at least survive. With Sonic or without.

"Watch the door. It's, umm, loose."

This makes me smile a little, and despite my abominable arrogance I turn to wink at her. "Meet Amy Rose; murderess of entryways, smasher of locked foes. No habitation is safe from her pink invasion."

She pulls a heroic pose before reaching past me to grip the doorknob. In consequence our bodies are pressed together and I can still see the height difference between us. I've got a couple of inches over her. "You know it!"

We push the buckled wood away and step outside, immediately hit with a blast of dusty, chilled air.

I shudder, withdrawing deeper into my jacket. I'd shaken it out before but I can still feel shards inside, poking me subtly.

Amy pauses to drop her rose respectfully on the welcome mat before joining my slow, cautious walk down the ruined street, our eyes wandering the desolation, the destruction, the death.

We're quiet for some time, just walking, dodging anything that looks suspicious and moving, pausing occasionally to check people lying prone in gutters and under cars, and anywhere. All dead, all cold, all colourless. It looks like being heroes is unnecessary, since there seems to be nobody to save.

"I could do with some hot chocolate right now," she then says, randomly.

"I could do with a cigarette," I reply. "Hold on, maybe I've got some somewhere…" I pat the pockets of my jeans and indeed, I can feel the squashed remains of a pack. I pull it out with a low chuckle of satisfaction. Flip the lid back, three smokes remain. "Fuck, yeah. Want one?"

She quirks a brow at my seemingly innocent offer. She knows I'm teasing. "Nah, I still would rather have hot chocolate."

"You kidding me? This shit's expensive."

"I know. I keep telling you what a waste of money it is."

"But they're strawberry flavoured. You should be bouncing around, squealing something girly." I allow my voice to rise considerably in pitch and I limp-skip ahead. "Yay! Strawberries! So happy! Happy day!"

She growls and takes a light jab at me with her brandished hammer, threatening to knock me over. "You know I don't do that anymore!"

"Pity, too. Was kinda cute, when I think about it." I pluck out a cigarette. Slip the butt between my lips and grip it firmly with my teeth, then pull out the cheap, slender lighter I'd crammed in the pack. I smirk at the disgusted face she pulls. "What?"

"I hate it when you smoke. I hate it so much I just want to smack you around the head with my door smashing hammer of justice."

A deft brush of my thumb spawns a tiny, steady flame which I bring before my nose, lighting the cigarette. The nicotine rush when I breathe the smoke in is absolute heaven. I can think. Really think this time. "Mmm…"

"Don't moan like that. You make it sound like that poison stick is actually good for you. It's not. And I'm inhaling your secondary smoke right now and that's absolutely selfish of you."

I blow a cloud her way. "Don't stand so close to me, then."

"It's cold," she mutters in reply, cheeks pink.

"I'm not cosy."

"Whatever." She gives me a mock frown, only for her face to soften as she whines wistfully and hugs herself, hammer jostled. "Oh, I really wish I'd worn that sweater Blaze bought me. The one with the hearts on it. So cute… hey, I miss Blaze. Come to think of it, I miss all of them. We should totally have a get-together some-"

An alien rattling sound shuts her up and brings us both to an abrupt stop, rendering us motionless, staring, eyes transfixed on the road ahead as something foul halfway crawls out a wide crack, its many bony legs clattering, appendage tapping, long antenna waving through the air back and forth much like a roach. It's dark, but the true colour of its husk is indiscernible. To us it appears charcoal, with brighter veins separating the plates of its shell.

"Oh, fuck." I clap a hand over my mouth. Perhaps saying that was a mistake, because it turns to regard me with interest. Leaning closer to my companion, I mouth a silent apology and she simply readies her hammer, looking scared and badass at the same time.

It stares in our direction for a moment longer, apparently blind like the worm we'd met before. Then, with a curious click it properly emerges, heaving its short, stout self onto the open tarmac.

I find myself wishing I had a big stick like Amy's hammer, so I didn't have to rely on a single good leg to fight this thing, if it wants a fight. I guess I'll let her do what she's good at and smash it. It looks pretty hard to smash, though. But there's only one of them and it is pretty small.

The bug creature takes a few steps toward us, scuttling with the swift motions of its legs, a shimmering wave of silver and white, almost metallic, mounted by its black, segmented body. A great heat wafts from its armoured self, like the bug is made from partially cooled, crusted magma. It continues to observe us, tapping the ground to size us up, then chirrups. Like a bird, it makes the most musical sound, a pleasant sound.

I raise a brow, Amy matching my expression. This is so unexpected it'd be funny if this was not really real and we were just watching some actors cower before a prop.

It chirps again and another cheep answers. With a rattle a second of its kind emerges, and they peep together, drawing a third bug creature, then a fourth, and a fifth, and countless others, a black and silver flood emerging from the crevice in the road. They all twitter together, varying pitches, each voice unique and pretty. And the noises are getting steadily more aggressive.

"My goodness," she whispers, one of my ears turning in her direction. "It's like an angry mob. I don't know if we can take quite so many…"

I nod stiffly. I realise that this is going to get ugly very quickly when the army of alien things moves to stand together, blocking our path and opening their bony scales apart to bear a gaping mouth each, filled with teeth, reminiscent of a leech or other parasitic worm, throats filled with long, flickering tentacles eager to grab.

Amy and I share a look. Things are getting freakier by the second it seems.

The first bug lunges, somehow leaping at least ten feet above our heads before dropping like a stone, flying straight at my face, mouth stretching, teeth reaching out from moving gums, tentacles flailing. It screams something partially recognisable, and it's not as funny as it should be. In fact I think that is the most terrifying sound I have ever heard. "Blaaaaargh!"

I stumble back, crying out in alarm. My leg hurts and I know I'm moving too slow to get away in time.

My knight in pink bounces before me, and with precise aim and an almighty swing of her hammer she knocks the insect aside, interrupting its descent to violate my face with its face, sending it careening into a toppled clothing store with a sharp crack and a shower of dust upon impact.

I want to hug her. I want to punch myself.

The other bugs don't notice the loss of their leader and spring upwards, giant, fat fleas that shall soon rain upon us.

I have enough sense, now that my life has been saved again and my pride kicked in the stomach, to grab her shoulder and yank her back, dragging her with all my crippled speed the way we'd come. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She quickly regains her balance, chasing after me. "This is insane! I wanna go home!"

"Me too!"

We yelp and curse as a bug lands heavily behind us, then another and another, and so many more loud, scary bangs and chirrups follow with the forceful wind of their landing and repeated launching licking at our backs, all these sensations of impending death pushing us like a wall, urging us to run faster.

Yet despite the danger, the adrenaline is something we know. Running together from a strange foe, we begin to remember. It's like the old days, running from a deadly new model of Eggman's robots. It's a stunning epiphany. We begin to remember who we were.

"Take the lead!" I push her ahead. "You're faster!"

She blinks, then nods and grasps my arm firmly in her strong fist, hammer gripped in the other, her classic gold bangles glinting. She lowers her head and with a look of familiar determination, she regains her youth, flying forward in a thrilling, terrifying sprint, legs a blur, sweat gleaming on her forehead.

I let my ruined wings unfurl once more and pretend to take flight, her towing me all the way. It's beautiful, seeing the world rush past us, suspended feet above the ground. We're going so fast, it's like another dream. Like memories of when Shadow and I were secret agents saving the world one run at a time.

The sounds of our pursuers grows dim and a glance backwards reveals the bugs have been left far behind, ending their chase and moving back to hide in cracks to ambush the unwary traveller who happens to be less awesome than us.

"Hey," I shout in her ear. "We totally lost those assholes!"

Leaping over debris in our path and hammering those we cannot dodge aside with almost casual swings, the girl I always saw her as revels in her speed, her power, not afraid, and her excitement invigorates me in turn. She seems to have forgotten about why she started running in the first place.

"Yeah! Fucking own the world, baby!" I can't help but cackle when she kicks off a pillar and pulls me into the air, then lands beside me with ease, tugging me comfortingly with each motion. "This is just like old times! Fuck, this is so much fun! Just, fuck!"

"Fuck!" she echoes, and the word sums up our pleasure easily, especially when she says it with such enthusiasm. Never before have I ever heard her say that word. It sounds good on her tongue.

I laugh harder. I lose myself in the moment.

She grins, teeth flashing white as she takes us around a corner, passing worms, narrowly skipping over corpses, running for the fun of it in a dead city. After a time she calls back, "It's been too long since I felt the wind in my hair, you know?"

"Totally! This is amazing, Amy!"

We go until we reach the countryside.

Finally she skids to a halt, gasping and giggling at the same time.

I stumble to a stop beside her, dropping on my knees as I too gather my breath.

"Did you see how fast we were going?"

"I know! Dammit, kid, I forgot you could run like that!"

"You forgot? I forgot I could run like that!"

"That was better than sex!"

"I… I wouldn't know…"

I yank her down and hug her. "Trust me," I manage between pants, my face buried in her slick neck. "That was so… much… better. Thank you! I feel young again!"

Her hand caresses my back. "My pleasure. I think we both needed that."

Suddenly I find tears in my eyes. They burn.

"What now?"

I clutch onto her more tightly.

"Rouge?"

"Sorry. I, uh, seem to be having a moment."

She chuckles and tolerates my out of character breakdown. "We ran far. Look, the city's so small from out here."

She gently squeezes my shoulder and I turn to where she points to a grey shape on the horizon, far down the speckled, bland dirt road, the sky above a white globe. I sniffle and her hand lowers. "Y-yeah, and it felt like five minutes."

"I think it was about two."

"Maybe. Sorry, you asked me something before. I wasn't listening."

"I asked what we should do now."

"Aren't we looking for your blue lover?"

"Oh…" She smirks, rubbing her hands together shyly. "Guess so. Sonic… he'll be at the castle, assuming he didn't go out. And it's still standing. Of course he'd have rescued everybody…"

"Ready to see him?"

"I don't know."

I stand, pulling her up by the shoulders and turning her to face me. "It'll be okay. I'm sure the restraining order doesn't count in circumstances of apocalyptic significance."

"Shut up." She lightly presses a fist to my jaw. A couple years back, that would have been a proper punch to the face. "He did not get a restraining order. I backed off myself. He's got a family now, even if I still love him and always will. And I respect that. All I want is for him to be safe and happy."

I smile down at her as her fist withdraws. "That's very generous of you, Amy."

"You did the same for Knuckles and Julie-Su, right? So that makes you generous too."

I let my eyes drift to the colourless, rolling knolls of grass. Giant crab creatures walk on spiderlike legs in the distance, their rumbles quiet from here. "Let's get moving. I don't want one of those big things to spot us."

"Do you still love him?" she asks as we begin walking. "I get the impression you do. But you two were complicated."

I open my mouth to answer her, realising for the first time I'd lost my cigarette sometime during the previous activity. Grumbling, I pick another from the pack. "I dunno. I'm pissed at him and I feel guilty about how things ended between us."

"You weren't at the wedding."

"Yeah. I couldn't be there."

"Hurt too much, right?"

"Yep. I never liked Julie-Su. Still, she's a female echidna and he's a guy echidna. What chance did I have? Heh, not much. Didn't matter how often I visited his grumpy ass as he sat sulking up there." I cast and angry glare at the pale sky. "On his lonely little island in the clouds."

Amy seems to regret her curiosity and changes the subject slightly for my benefit. She knows I tend to rant when the topic goes to Knucklehead. It's just a good thing I don't have booze at hand or I'd give us away to the creatures for sure. "I cried the whole way through Sonic's wedding. I think Sally was worried that I was gonna go all 'I object!' on them in the first thirty seconds of the service. Still, I didn't. And it was nice of them to invite me."

We're silent from then on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

I stop tapping my pen to the desk and look up from the glossy, well worn wood grain with a huff, slightly annoyed by this disturbance. I don't like talking to people as a rule, not more often than I have to. I realise now I'd been staring at my desk for some time, probably so I could pretend to have an excuse not to mark those damn papers anymore. A stack of disappointments – F, F, D, F, Fucked, Future, F.

A girl playing as a young woman stands before me. She's gorgeous. That's the first thing I notice when I study her face, masked with suspicious shyness, as if she feels truly humbled by my presence but could be acting for my benefit. I suppose I shall never know. She waves in a charming fashion. "Hi."

I raise a brow. Glancing downwards, as that is where I sense my eyes being pulled, I next notice her buttons are rather undone and she's sporting an impressive rack, the likes of which make mine tingle with jealousy. Inappropriately, her breasts try to leap out of her bra as she takes a step toward my desk, likely wanting to smother me until I die.

"I was hoping I could talk to you, ma'am…"

My eyes continue their descent like an old pervert. A little lower is a skinny waist and large hips, supported by legs that go on forever. I put the bits and pieces together, and finally, I recognise this lovely girl too grownup for her age as a student in my class. Now I need to remember her name. People have those for some reason.

"Ma'am?"

Quickly I return my scrutiny to her pretty, ever so young, perfect face, decorated with lipstick and glittering eye shadow. Something about this girl reminds me of someone else I know. "Yes, Breezy?" Myself. Oh, good, I remembered her name this time.

"So sorry to disturb you. You look very busy, ma'am," she begins politely with a lie, using the tone of voice all students use when they haven't done their assignments or studied worth a damn and they know what's coming to them. They want to improve their chances a bit with some service, some bribery. Buy some more time if time is what is needed to scrape by. "I had a bit of an incident-"

"It's due today."

"I know, ma'am, but-"

"What you know is that I don't tolerate shit – _excuse me_ – excuses for lateness in my class. It was due today and you have failed to hand in. Better luck next time, my dear."

She looks pissed off, then instantly switches the glare for a flutter of her lashes, leaning forward until she props herself on my desk with dainty hands, fingers adorned by rings which my trained eye would easily judge as fake if my attention wasn't so divided between staring at her plump, descending mouth or the marvellous view of cleavage I have been presented with. "I see."

I swallow. I can feel my body getting hot. Thighs clench together, packed tightly over a swelling burn. I know somewhere in my soul, whatever of it is left after the last war, that what I am indulging here, in this place of education and safety, is wrong. Immoral. Unprofessional. Inappropriate. But sometimes, it's impossible to play the responsible teacher role. I won't lie to myself. I hate what I've become. But I love this part of the job. "I don't think you do, Breezy." Breezy Baby. I think I'll call her that when I have her in the back room later.

She catches on to my game easily. "Are you sure we can't negotiate?" A finger drifts, settling on my fist, which is clutching the pen limply as I had forgotten all about it. She pulls it out of my loose fingers and suckles on my pen while I watch on helplessly. She pauses, eventually, to await my inevitable defeat with knowing, cunning eyes.

I lower my voice with the next part. "Lock the door and close the curtains."

She grins and sets off to work while my shaky fingers pull at the collar of my shirt.

"Better be in by next week." Never took myself for a lesbian, but whatever. I take what I get.

"It will, ma'am. I promise."

"Good girl." A moment, and then, "Come here."

She advances and takes a seat on my lap, pulling me into a ravenous kiss with no love in it.

* * *

Amy's voice knocks me out of my memories.

"I should run some more. We're going so slow. It'll take days before we reach Sonic!"

"Nah. Run and you'll drop dead halfway. Then I'll have to bury you and continue by myself. No thanks. Besides, we'd miss the pretty scenery."

We finally stop walking when it hurts too much to continue, our legs jittering in the cold as if they are about to collapse beneath us and leave us to drown in one of the numerous waterlogged potholes periodically dotting the muddy road. We take shelter from the rain in a vacant barn.

"Would you miss me?" Amy asks, picking at straw.

"Humph?" I lie on a clean spot, letting my partially wet clothes press flat against my back, thankfully warmed by my thick jacket, and fold one leg casually over the other. It's comfortable enough.

"If I died. Would you miss me, Rouge?"

I stare at the high wooden ceiling. "'Course I would."

"Really?" She sounds so happy to hear this. She honestly expected I would never learn to give a shit for anyone but myself.

I smile slightly. "Surprise."

"And not just because you'd have to fight the aliens without my trusty hammer, right? You'd miss me because… well…"

"Uh-huh."

She makes a funny noise and I roll onto my side to glare at her. Instantly she settles down.

"Don't get so damn excited. I didn't proclaim my undying love for you."

"Sorry. It's just nice to be appreciated."

"What, feeling insecure?"

"A little. The only person to really stick by me through these years, through all my depression and anger, even through that short prison sentence when I sent that guy to hospital for calling Sonic a pimp…" She shyly averts her eyes. Perhaps because of that particular memory, or perhaps because I'm listening attentively and my ears hear everything, even her heart as it beats a little faster, energetically pumping blood about her slumped, dirty body. "Was you."

I frown softly but say nothing.

She makes no attempt to speak either.

"You'd never last in a cell," I say eventually. "The girls in there would eat you up, hon."

She looks ready to say something clever in retaliation about how she's not as helpless as she looks and would fuck their shit up if they tried, when she stops, staring off into space, expression dumbfounded. She stays like that for some time.

"Err," I manage, tapping a bare patch of ground with my nail. "You okay?"

"You called me hon just now," she whispers, her big, brilliantly green eyes slowly swivelling down to my level. Gradually she smiles, and her eyelids drop smugly. "That's short for honey. That's a term of endearment you used to use a lot back in the day."

"Yeah. I did." I snort, smirking back at her. "So…?"

"You haven't called me that in years." Head tilted slightly to one side, she looks me over appraisingly. "I missed it."

"I, uh, guess it slipped out." I roll over again, this time so my back faces her, wings neatly folded. I'm blushing. Fucking red in the face.

"Don't shut me out. Come on, _batgirl_. We're friends."

"Stop showing off."

"It was cute!"

"Humph." I bury a hand in my pocket, not for a cigarette this time. Instead I pull out my wallet. The pretty dead girl's necklace is wrapped messily around the fake leather – because real leather would just be barbaric – and I hurriedly stuff that trinket away before opening the sheath and expertly reaching into one of the compartments. I pull out a small, faded photograph, studying it as I've done a million times before.

Baby Lara-Su gazes curiously back at me, tightly wrapped in her blankets with fluffy white clouds and dancing teddy bears.

A hand brushes over my shoulder.

"You know, you can't pretend I'm not-" Amy stops momentarily, evidently surprised. "Oh, wow. I didn't know you had a photo of Lara-Su."

"I have," I reply distantly. "For a while."

"Where'd you get it?"

"From Tails, last I saw him. Said Knucklehead had set it aside for me."

"Why didn't you say anything? All this time I thought you'd never even seen Lara."

"A woman has a right to some damn privacy. You didn't need to know and I didn't feel like telling."

"Well, grouchy pants. Fine." The hedgehog's annoyance vanishes soon thereafter. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Uh-huh."

"Looks just like her dad."

"Stupid asshole."

"You don't mean that. You still carry a torch for the guy."

"Heh, whatever."

"Does she make it easier?"

"What?"

"Looking at the photo. Does Lara make it easier for you? Is it a, uhh, coping mechanism for your grief? Like, when you miss Knuckles, do you look at her and it makes you feel connected to him somehow?"

I twitch an ear testily. "Piss off. Don't need to be fucking psychoanalysed by a girl with a giant hammer."

"You big softie, you."

"Go away."

"No. You're not putting up those walls again. We've lived through too much." She pokes me in the hip playfully.

I lay the photo on a dry mound of hay and replace my wallet. "What do you want from me? I told you, I don't wanna talk."

"Remember when you made me run?" Amy asks softly, drawing circles in my jacket. I can feel her touch through the tough fabric, fond and hopeful.

"Yep," I reply tersely, my cold, calculating eye shifting from Lara's sweet face to follow that finger's journey along my shoulder, doing the math, weighing the choice between hearing the hedgehog out and risking some mushy crap or punching her and making a run for the hills instead. For whatever reason, I stay where I am. Maybe because running would mean leaving Lara's picture behind and I could never do that. I could never really leave Amy behind, either.

"We were going so fast earlier. We got sucked in. It was invigorating, it was fun. We ended up going so far we found ourselves out of the city and it was fantastic. I know Sonic loved to run, and we got a feel for the special thrill again. Know what I mean?"

"Better than sex," I whisper, mostly to myself. I feel my eyes prickle again. Sex really isn't all it's made out to be. Not when it's an excuse. That run was like reliving the best of the past. Sex never did that.

"It was like we've been holding back all this time, living half lives. But when it was the two of us, zipping around like heroes, we became whole again. We were our old selves again. Heroes. Don't you miss that? I know you loved it as much as I did. You were smiling, Rouge. You were laughing. Really laughing. I made you happy back there. I haven't heard you laugh like that in so long. You're always hurting. In here."

I bite my lip and shudder as her arm snakes around me, her warmth penetrating despite the dankness of her clothes and the muddy droplets in her quills, drowning me as her cheek rests against mine, her hand pressing softly over my ample chest, stroking it when I breathe hard and fast.

"Right there."

"What are you doing?" I ask through my teeth.

"Shh."

"Amy…"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

"It made me think. The adventures we could still have before we really get old. For the first time in years I realised I still have that speed. That speed… and you still have your kick. Your amazing kick."

My legs self-consciously fold. It was certainly a shock to my system.

"We're not dead, Rouge. We're just jaded. We've got to accept who we really are and I think our friendship could be so much more than catty comments and pats on the head after you've ruined another hot chocolate because I let something out I shouldn't have. When you hugged me earlier, I felt truly safe. Almost like when Sonic would rescue me from Eggman. We were heroes together and-"

"You're scaring me. All this emotional talk is making my head hurt."

"Sorry." She's quiet for a moment. Suddenly, she begins to hum. Softly, gently, she rehearses a childhood lullaby, and I feel myself relaxing, a curious ear turned back to listen while the other is squashed between my head and folded arm acting like a pillow.

Lara could never imagine.

I don't snarl and fight back. I listen to Amy Rose serenade me into calm oblivion, and I can only purr when she holds me a little closer to her warm, soft, wet body. It's comforting. She's always trying to make me feel a little less miserable. I owe her this one moment, and it feels so good to be cradled. She's amazingly strong, this girl. No, this woman.

"You've been a good friend," she whispers in my all too willing ear once I'm in a trancelike state. "And you don't need to be angry anymore. It makes me so sad when you shut yourself away. That's not what friends do. And let's face it, batgirl. You're my best friend. I now know why I hang out with you."

I close my eyes. "Why?" I breathe.

"It's because you were there for me when nobody else was. Not even Sonic. He has his own family. And I appreciate you protecting me for so long. Sure, you've got a mean streak a mile wide. But underneath all that, it's just like I said. You've got a lot of love to give. You're a good person. A person she could grow to admire and look up to."

She's talking about Lara, the daughter who I know but never met.

I blindly reach out to touch the photograph. "I hope so."

"We're going to find Sonic. We're going to reunite the gang. Together we're going to save the world. And you're going to fix things with Knuckles and Julie, and then you're going to finally meet their daughter. Be her favourite aunt."

"Little Lara-Su."

"That's right, batgirl. Though I don't think she's little anymore."

"Probably not. If she's anything like her father, she'll be big and stubborn and maybe an idiot, too."

"And like her dad she's going to drive you batty."

I allow myself to grin. "I'd like that."

"So rest up, because we've got a long way to go." With that Amy pulls away, leaving me in the cold while I brood, missing her touch. "Hope the rain clears soon. It's so melancholy when there's no colour."

I put Lara's photograph back in its place and lie still.

It's quiet for a few moments.

"Gonna get some shuteye if that's all right with you. Really tired."

"Sure, go for it."

She smiles and moves to find a soft spot, leaving me to my silence.

Minutes later and I grow a little concerned, casting a look about the dark interior of our shelter for her. I soon find the little hedgehog girl in a dry corner, and the sight of her makes my chest seize up and my lips curve into a rare smile, one I reserve for special occasions. Noiselessly I stand and make my way toward her, stopping just short of treading on her. She's safe.

She's curled into a tight ball in the hay, her pink knees tucked to her chest and muzzle buried in folded arms, eyes angelically closed. She looks soft and each little shiver breaks my tiny heart to pieces again and again.

I smirk down at her, silently watching. She's positively the most adorable little thing whenever she sleeps. I'd discovered that for the first time when I convinced her to try one harmless little glass of wine and she ended up totally plastered, thus she fell asleep at my place. I'd had to take the couch because I gave her my bed. She is just that cute when she sleeps.

She shivers again and the ball tightens. She's so vulnerable, so small, so innocent and precious. I feel foul just being near such a pretty creature.

I begin to strip off my jacket. As quietly as I can I pull down the zipper and slip it off my shoulders. I reach inside one arm, feeling for glass shards, carefully picking them out one by one and tossing the glittering things across the barn. Later I move to the next arm and free it of glass as well, and after much painstaking progress I have cleared the soft inner backing and made the old jacket habitable.

She makes a quiet sighing sound as I bend over her, so much bigger and like some scary monster or something, my shadow ominous on her perfect face. Her pretty face. Genuine, not a mask, not makeup. Still, she sleeps, at peace. Trusting.

I carefully drape the jacket over her circled form like a blanket and she fits right in all the folds and pockets of warmth. "There," I mumble through a blush, smoothing it all out and tucking it around her curves. "She was right. I am such a softie, god."

He smiles and shrugs.

Then I pull away and retake my seat, watching the colourless wet world through high windows pattering quietly with soft rain. I'm seated for some time like this, thinking about nothing in particular. I achieve an almost otherworldly state while sitting here, listening to the rain, feeling biting cold gnawing at my arms and shoulders. I jump a little when a noise other than those I have observed for so long interrupts my daze.

"Mmm..."

My ears prick and turn in her direction, shortly followed by my head. She's stirring, my eyes flickering to watch each swell and shift of her cocooned body beneath my jacket. And I can't help but think that nobody should be allowed to look so cute, that it's immoral and unfair. She's like a puppy on some motivational poster bull crap or something. I want to reach over there and tuck a stray quill behind her ear. But the dishevelled look is amazingly appealing on her. So I don't. But I want to. But I don't because I might wake her accidentally and she's so beautiful when she sleeps. I like watching her sleep.

"Sonic," she manages through the collar of my jacket, snuggling deeper into it, as if in the blue hero's arms right now.

I flinch. Something about the way she called for him just now burns me inside.

"Sonic," she says again, more urgently.

I grit my teeth and think back. All the times she sobbed in my arms and I told her to get over it but she never really did, all the times she fell asleep in my bed with tearstained cheeks and I took the couch out of affectionate pity, all the times she woke up to eat my food and drag me outside so we could both try to forget. Our entire friendship. The reason we've stuck together this long when we used to practically hate each other. All of it was because of Sonic. Should I thank him or hate the guy?

And Knucklehead getting married to Julie-Su. And Shadow going crazy. And Cream growing up. And lots of things besides. But mostly, Sonic. It was always because of Sonic. Will always be because of Sonic. His existence dictates the lives of everyone around him, whether he bothers to phone them once in a while or not.

Sonic, Sonic, Sonic. Like the whole fucking world revolves around _Him_. Sonic. He's always the crux of the problem.

Sonic.

Sonic.

Fucking Sonic the fucking hedgehog.

Not even his real fucking name.

Fuck.

Fucking lair.

Can't even go to the store without thousands of grinning Sonic faces glaring at you in the cereal aisle.

Sonic is king. Sonic owns the world.

I just realised something now.

Sonic is god.

I growl, the utterance low and threatening. Like some fucking territorial animal I growl at the mentioning of his name. I am suddenly an angry, flustered fruit bat. Where the fuck did that come from? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm the one who's sitting with her right now when the world as we know it could be over and still, it's his name she speaks so familiarly.

She wants god when I'm right here and it pisses me off.

Sonic's not here.

He left her years ago to be with that sweet bit of ass Sally Acorn and the kingdom came with their marriage. Beautiful kids followed and their antics have been broadcast on television a hundred thousand times. Seems like not a day goes by when Sonic and his family aren't featured in the news. They have their own television show.

I realise now just how sick I am of Sonic, Sonic, Sonic.

I storm out the barn. Limp into the rain. Take a swing at invisible assailants. I want to have a smoke and when I dig frantically into my pocket I pull out the pretty corpse's glinting diamond or crystal heart on a chain. It's cold and soothing in my hand, comforting. I put the trinket on this time. Stare down at the tiny weight resting between the mounds of my breasts, feeling like I've accomplished something. Then I pull out the pack and rummage around for cigarettes.

None left.

"Fuck!" I pull out my lighter and toss the rest away. Not like I could really smoke in all this wet mist anyway. Idiot. Stomp over to a fence and lean against it, uncaring for monsters as I grip the wood with my nails and whine into the pale beyond. I really want a cigarette.

The past events come crashing down on me.

Sonic might be fucking dead and that is the saddest thing I've ever heard.

What about Amy? What then?

I have a bad feeling.

I can't stay out here.

Am I crazy?

So I trudge back to the barn and pull out my wallet so I can stare at Lara's picture some more. Glancing upwards, I find Amy has stopped moving around, lying deathly still like she instinctively feels that if she plays dead convincingly enough, the predator will pass. Now I am ashamed as well as hurt. "Shit." Quickly I return to the photograph, stroking it with a wet thumb. A trembling, numb thumb. I'm freezing. Half tempted to snatch my jacket back.

There's faint rustling, which I take as my companion shifting about during some erotic dream and pointedly ignore. Except the noises are getting closer and her breathing doesn't sound sleepy anymore, but I am sulking and I don't want to look.

It's surprising when I feel warm arms gently envelop me from behind for the second time today, a pleasantly familiar perfume wafting to tickle my accustomed nostrils, and shortly after her weight rests over my back to complete the embrace. Still, I say nothing, arms tightly folded and legs crossed. I'm seated defensively. Lara safe between my fingers.

Amy nuzzles an icy nose against the edge of one of my ears. It twitches with her breath. "Hey."

"Hi." I resist cocking my head. I love having my ears fondled. It's a weakness of mine I haven't hidden quite as well as I probably should have, what with all my drunken ways and crippling need for someone to vent on. Crippling for a little attention. Amy has dutifully been my person for all these years. And as such I let her play with my ears from time to time. She likes them a lot for whatever reason. But still, I am currently mad at her because it was my jacket that kept her warm, not Sonic. Sonic has done jack and shit for her all these years. And he might be dead. I fear what will happen to us if that turns out to be true.

"Thanks," she whispers. She shifts her face to press a kiss to the naked flesh of the back of my neck. "For the jacket," she elaborates softly against me, lips brushing with tenderness over old, scarred muscles. "That was really sweet of you, batgirl."

I nod, barely. "You're welcome. Sorry for waking you."

"You're all wet."

"I went outside for some air."

"Sweetie, you'll get sick."

"I don't care."

"Don't be like that."

"Meh."

She gently begins to dry my hair with her gloves, her body acting as a heater. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I hiss when she pinches an ear between her fingers, kissing it afterwards. "Fine, fine. I'm just thinking about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Private stuff. And why are you all touchy feely?"

She chuckles. "I'm always touchy feely."

"Yeah, but not this touchy feely."

"You need some comforting. I already told you, you're my best friend and I love you."

I swallow. "You didn't say that last part."

"Well, I'm saying it now." She rests her chin atop my head, arms snugly wrapping around me once more. "I love you."

Everything grows hazy and warm.

Forgiveness.

Maybe.

"Can we just… sit like this, for a while? No talking?"

"Sure, batgirl."

"Thank you."

I can hear her smile in her voice. "My pleasure."

I close my eyes. I guess maybe I love her too, a little bit.

* * *

My writing can be surreal at times. Please stick with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

"Big guy? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Hon? Please, respond."

Emptiness.

"Respond, dammit! That's an order!"

Omega is silent in my arms; all the various bits of him. No flickering light in his cracked optics, no synthesised reply. Smoke rises from the gaping wound in his chassis, spluttering with sparks and then, moments later, nothing. He stops vibrating softly and lies motionless over my lap.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, then try again in a smaller voice. "Omega?" It cracks. "Big guy?"

He does not acknowledge my calling.

I realise the awful truth with a nervous twitch, my muscles all tightening at once, then relaxing again. My friend is dead, says the deadpan voice in my head. I just lost a friend. I loved him so much and I never even said it. Why would I? He's just a robot. I wonder, somewhere in the less sane recesses of my grieving mind, whether Omega, while he was alive, if you'd call it that, was capable of loving. Did he love me? I hope so. Not many others do. Sometimes I don't even love myself.

"Rouge," calls a familiar voice, masculine. It would be alluring if it were not so cold.

I cough back weakly. My lungs are burning. It's so fucking hard to breathe. I look up as Shadow appears out of nowhere, simply coming to life amidst the fire and cracked earth. He's beautiful, some fallen angel. His sharp angles, his graceful movements, the feral quality in his eyes.

He sees the state I'm in, then Omega, torn apart and held to my breast, and his brows rise with alarm. Before he can speak, I do.

"He's dead." My external deadpan voice.

Shadow remains quiet, standing stoically above me like some statue or demigod. He probably has no idea what to say. I don't blame him.

"He's f-fucking dead."

Still, Shadow cannot speak. He makes a quiet noise akin to a gasp, but that is all.

I lower my head, defeated. Stroke Omega's crumpled face. Smear blood over the metal. "H-he lost to Eggman," I murmur. "All he wanted was to k-kill the fat bastard and… and he lost. I couldn't save him. My big guy."

There's a loud bang somewhere in the near distance.

Some moments pass.

"You know…" I chuckle ruefully. "It's crazy."

"What is?" my remaining best friend queries softly and with caution, having finally gotten his voice back.

"I thought he was invincible. But l-look at him now. Dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Really? Are y-you?"

A tentative step is taken and I know the hedgehog has crouched beside me when he places a dirty gloved hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. He doesn't say anything more, simply touching me, being near me. He is. He's very sorry this happened and we couldn't stop it.

"But y-you're still inv-v-vincible, right?" I whisper, leaning to touch my cheek against that hand. A desperate gesture. "Aren't you?"

"Yes." That simple reply is filled with all the conviction in the world. "I'm not going anywhere."

I smile weakly. "Good. Because I don't th-think I could live alone. Without Omega, you're all I've got l-left." I sound like a little girl who found out from the mean kids at school that Santa isn't real, that her mother is a filthy whore and her father's not coming back from the war, and her only friend in the world is the teddy bear she holds and he's lost a button eye because she hugged him too hard.

"Come," Shadow says simply.

"Don't wanna m-move."

"This place is going to explode," he explains, gently but with some urgency. "You have to go. For Omega."

"Fine, but n-not going anywhere without my robot."

Shadow helps me to my feet and turns me to face him, cradling part of Omega between us like a child. He leans forward and lightly butts his forehead against mine. "We'll take him with us," he says tenderly, soothingly.

I shudder and a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me closer. It's the first hug Shadow and I have ever shared, and it took the death of our comrade to bridge the gap between us. I love him so much. And I tell him, right there and then, that I do. That I love him so very much. I breathe it in his fur with shattered passion and he nods softly against me.

"I love you, too."

I close my eyes and savour that one beautiful moment. The moment I know for sure.

Somebody loves me.

I'm not all alone.

* * *

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Hmm? Sorry, I zoned out there for a second. Repeat that, please."

"Did you mean it? When you said it back there, in the barn, did you mean what you said to me?"

"When I said what?"

"That you love me. Did you mean it?"

Amy looks at me strangely, like I've grown an extra ear or something bizarre. Like I've just started speaking Latin and she knows I can't speak Latin. Like I'm batty, though the last one might be true. The idea is certainly not unfounded by now.

I'd laugh at her reaction, but it doesn't seem very funny. Not after that melancholy memory. So rather, I awkwardly scratch my ear instead, averting my eyes to the ground as we trudge along the muddy road. Now that we are no longer shielded within protective walls and hay mounds, we're bombarded by a cold wind, a bitterly iced wind. And her reaction isn't helping to make things warmer.

"Of course I meant it, Rouge," she tells me eventually, sounding a little incredulous, but still quite kind and indulgent, as if she understands my grief. "Why? Do you think I didn't?"

The road is so slippery. Unsafe.

"Nah," I say after a time. I manage one of my charming, tired grins. It's forced into place and flimsily maintained by an iron will. "Just checkin'."

She cocks her head, then relaxes. Nothing serious, thank god.

I don't bother correcting her.

"You're so adorably quirky sometimes, batgirl," she tells me with an amused shake of her head, stepping closer to drape a companionable arm over my shoulders. "And by the way, I still love you. Really. I promise that won't change in the next five minutes. So don't you worry your pretty little mind about it."

I nod, not caring to push her off. I could do with a little attention. And she's grasped one of my ears again and I just can't say no to that. She's clever, my Amy. Not that she's ever been mine. Not once. Ever. Even when drunk and clinging desperately to my arms, heavy like lead pressed to my bruised chest, drowning in tears of Sonic.

Sonic. Sonic.

Sonic…

* * *

"Don't you fucking get it? You have no fucking right! You don't get to leave me again, you selfish bitch! Come back here! I'm not finished with you! Fucking come back here!"

_Baby. Why are you so sad, baby girl? What's wrong? Did those mean boys pull your ears again?_

My hot rage flows to frigid sorrow like the turn of a faucet. "I'm not ready," I whisper between heaves. "So much I never... I never got to tell you. You don't get to leave me alone again. You fucking coward. Come back. Please."

_Oh, poor little darling. My angel. Precious one. Come, let me see it. Let me see the boo-boo._

I squeeze my lips together, shutting my mouth securely to hold back a sob. I'm crumpled on my knees like rubbish in her eyes. The rubbish I am. Undeserving. Tears keep streaming down. I hear her voice. It's in my head. I beg the earth for reprieve. "I… don't want this! It's too soon! Please, come back… you selfish, old bitch… you shouldn't be in there, you're too strong…"

_Calm down. It's just a cut. A tiny, teensy cut. See? Put a plaster on, a magic kiss… all better! What was all the fuss about?_

Claw at my hair. Pull out clumps of the stuff in my hands. White strands dancing in the wind, escaping caged, trembling fingers. I stare for a moment, then begin again with fervour. Frantically I scratch at my own scalp. Scratch until I hurt. I want to open my head and spill out all the pain. "I… I'm scared!"

_Hush, it'll be fine. Hush, child. Come, sit on Momma's lap._

"Hold me."

_Don't cry._

"I'm so sorry, Momma. Why did you have to… die? Selfish fucking bitch, now I have nobody!"

_I'm disappointed in you, Rouge. That was a very bad thing you did._

"Momma, don't go."

Her gravestone is cold. Just like she had become in her old age. And old age took what was left of my Momma away from me. The only family I had.

I promise myself right then and there, whilst sobbing for my Momma, to never grow old and cold like she did. Never become resentful. I assure myself I will always be the better woman. Always inviting and warm. Always tender and beautiful. Even when I'm old. No. I refuse to grow old. Not even god will make me.

_Get out of my sight. You're no daughter of mine._

* * *

"I'm hungry."

Amy makes a soft sound of amusement and takes my arm in her gentle fingers, pulling me along with her. "There's a farmhouse over there. I guess the owners wouldn't mind if we helped ourselves. Who knows, maybe there's still people left around here. Live people."

I follow the little dirt path split off from the road and she stays close beside me, acting as my support both emotional and physical. My rod.

The door is open upon our rival, left slightly ajar, and we're greeted with smashed windows, torn curtains and a severed hand still gripping the doorknob. It's a little funny, actually, with blackened blood smeared so generously over the welcome mat. Like a scene out of some corny old horror movie.

"Something bad happened here."

We don't dwell on the silver lining – that being the hilariously severed hand and ironically unwelcoming welcome mat – and respectfully contain our mirth as we enter the strange abode. We look around, get ourselves accustomed to the place. No people, only corpses, are found, mostly haunting the bedrooms like they'd run there for refuge under the beds. Soon, we find the modest kitchen and raid the drawers within, preparing sandwiches with the various spreads and slightly stale bread we find.

I continue to explore, although my companion seems content just to stare at a sinisterly scarred wooden chopping board hung up on the wall by a nail and string, chewing thoughtfully and letting me go about as I like. In my exploration I discover treasure hidden at the very back of a cupboard and with mouthful of jam sandwich I plant a jar of hot chocolate mix in front of her.

The hedgehog squeals at the sight and hurries to turn on the kettle. We have power and after a few minutes she offers me a steaming mug and we sit together to eat.

"While we're here, I think we should patch ourselves up. And maybe take a bath if that's okay with you."

I shrug. It's a good idea. A bath sounds rather tempting. "Sure."

"I'd like to take a look at your leg again. And your wings. Would you mind?"

"Meh, not really." I nod. Seems fine.

"Then let's finish here and get cleaned up. We can't stay still too long. We've got to find Sonic! He could be anywhere in the world by now, zipping about, saving people. My hero."

I cringe. Sonic. Of course.

When I've taken my last bite and final sip she's already begun to run a bath. I can smell the various potions from here. For farmers, these people lived pretty urban lives. They've even got a large television, one of the fancy flat ones.

I rise from the chair and join her in the tiny bathroom. I notice fresh, clean clothes have been collected and folded neatly on the closed lid of a rattan basket.

She realises I'm standing behind her and closes the tap, then rises again to give me a look-over. "Right. I think you should have the first go. You really need it."

"Thanks," I mutter back sarcastically, a hand settling on my hip. "You look just dandy yourself."

"You're worse off."

"You know just what to say to please a lady. But you take the first bath. I'll wait."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh. Make yourself squeaky clean. Be right out here if you need me, so shout."

She beams. "Thanks, batgirl. So gentlemanly of you."

I rub my hands together like a right old pervert. "Well! You can start getting undressed and-"

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

She shakes her head, reaching up on tiptoes to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before playfully turning me where I stand and pushing me out the bathroom with a light shove. "No peeking!"

"Drats, foiled again." I turn to watch her close the door, then make my way back to the chair. I sit and wait. Water is in motion again.

Some time passes before a fresh and renewed Amy Rose appears, sporting a new dress. It's white. Like most of everything else around here. "Well, what can you do, huh?"

"You look nice." I stand with a wince. Step toward her, running a knuckle lightly down her chin. "Smell way better, too."

"Go and have a bath," she orders me in an exasperated tone.

I pretend to fold my ears back with insult, somehow managing to swagger past her on a bad leg.

She follows after me.

I discover she's run me a new bath and there is not a trace of dirt, as if she'd never used the tub in the first place. Then again, she was always quite meticulous about her cleanliness. I'm proud of my appearance, of my housekeeping, but her levels are slightly more obsessive than mine. "Ah, thank you. So kind."

"Of course. So…"

"Yes?" I wait for her to leave, but she doesn't. "Well?"

"I, uh…"

"Going to stand there the whole time? Not that I mind or anything."

She blushes and clumsily begins to explain herself. "I want to help with your wings, if that's okay with you. They've got hay and mud in them and it could get infected. Or something. And th-the soap might sting. It probably will hurt, but I just thought maybe I could help make it easier for you…"

I smile at her. "I'll be okay on my own."

"You sure? Because we're both girls."

"And you'll ogle me the whole time, I know. But I don't need you do babysit me, Amy. I don't need assistance to take a bath."

"Okay. So you're fine."

"Yes. Thank you. You're… very good to me and I appreciate it."

She looks close to tears but quickly puts a lid on her bubbling emotions. It doesn't stop her from landing another peck on my cheek, this one lingering a little longer than the last. "I love you," she whispers in my ear, then suddenly leaves before I can stop her, gently closing the door behind her.

"I know." I stare at the place where she once was once situated. The space she'd moments before occupied. The expanse of empty, toneless air that once held her form. Finally, after a minute of soul-searching I take a relieved breath and strip. Undo my bootstraps. My toes crack as I wiggle them. Let my neck crack with them and the trinket tinkles to the floor, joining my untidy heap of dirty clothes.

When I'm naked as I can possibly be I slip into the hot water and sigh with pleasure, wincing a little as I sink into bubbles. I realise, then, that I haven't bathed in days. The water is a miracle for my tired, stiff muscles. "Better than sex." Thank you, friend who loves me.

I stew in the scented tub for some time, just enjoying the feel of it before getting to work actually cleaning myself. She was right. It does burn my wings, but I tune it out. Run the sponge over my toned arms first. Flex a bicep with old pride. Spread foam across a firm shoulder. Rub the underside of a breast with a smile. I take pleasure in leisurely rubbing my tummy. Eventually caress a long, sculptured thigh. I'm almost fifty years old and I have the body of a goddess. A body littered with old war wounds, flesh that's been touched too many times by clumsy hands.

That's what being a hero gets you. Scars and trouble not worth your time.

* * *

"What's wrong with you, kid? You drunk? High? What were you thinking, stupid?"

"Please, let me go! I'm sorry!"

"Shut up! Don't you fucking apologise. I hate that. You're just lying to me. I'm too old for that."

She closes her eyes. Tight. So the monster can't get her.

"You little fool," snarls a voice, low and harsh. My voice. "Little tramp. Pickpocket me, eh? Did you really think you'd get away with it? Thought I just wouldn't notice? That you'd get away easy and buy yourself more of whatever it is you're obviously on with my stuff? Well, sucks to be you now, doesn't it? Maybe you're just not very good at thinking."

She whimpers something unintelligible. It sounds like a prayer.

"I used to be just like you once. When I was young. Reckless. Difference is…" I move in closer, let my larger, stronger body sandwich hers to the wall so I can whisper seductively against her forehead. "I didn't get caught. You sure screwed that one up, love."

"I'm sorry, p-please…"

"Oh, I'm not gonna hurt you. Not badly, anyway. But let me clue you in. Your hand is too heavy. Know what I mean? I felt it tug on my pocket just as you laid your hand on my wallet. Felt your fingers brush up against me on the way out. You gave yourself away, but then again, I'm a professional, you know? But one always ought to be careful. Try that clumsy shit with some less nice guy who knows a thing or two or just so happens to notice and he'll take you to the cops. Or worse. Who knows what could happen to a cute little bitch like you?"

I've clamped a hand over her mouth before she can shriek, gripping her jaws firmly shut. The sound comes out muffled and pathetic.

"I'm a decent person. I can be perfectly reasonable." She's so light. I lift her off the ground easily, bring her to my height so that she's forced to look at me when she's dumb enough to open her eyes, and I can see how pissed scared she is. I let her look into my angry, hurt little shred of a soul. "Here's what's going to happen. You listening, sugar? You'd better be. I don't like to repeat myself."

She kicks about and I tighten my hold on her throat, the other hand firm on her mouth.

"You're going to stay nice and quiet. I'm going to do all the talking. I'm a teacher, you know that? You could be a girl in my class. Crazy, right? Me, teaching? Wouldn't think so. But I'm good at it. Real good. Anyway, I'm gonna educate you. You're going to look at me and see what happens to stupid little girls who-"

My phone rings, cutting my epic monologue short.

For a second I glance downwards.

She recognises my distraction and struggles. Hard. With a gulp she starts wriggling frantically, throwing frightened, untrained blows wherever she can reach. They hurt a bit, but her little fists do nothing to my abdomen, my arms, my shoulders and back. Her boots scrape against my thighs, built like pillars beneath me, unyielding. But it's incredibly annoying to have to deal with, as well as the vibrating in my trousers and the ringtone blaring obnoxiously in the background.

"Bah, for crying out loud." I'm caught between punishing this unlikable reminder of myself, and answering my phone. But she's just a girl. Finally I choose the latter, tossing her feet away, letting her fall on her face and kicking her in the ass as she scrambles back up again into a clumsy run. A slightly smarter girl now than she was before, hopefully. "Talk about me and I'll fucking find out, kid! Go home! Go to school! Get an education! Knowledge is… oh, whatever."

She vanishes into the night, deeper into the city of sin and debauchery. No streetlights guide her way, no halos to cast her in an innocent light. The power is out. Even my eyes only extend so far into the smog.

I pull out my phone and flick it open with a huff, raising it to my ear. "Yes?"

"Hi, Rouge. It's me."

My brows gradually rise. "Amy."

"You all right? You sound a little, well, flustered."

"I, uh, ran into some trouble just now." Look up and down the street. Begin walking. It's all I can do. "A little late for you to call, isn't it?"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble? Do you need help? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, calm down. Now what do you want with this old vampire?"

"Haha. Funny. Seriously, you're fine over there?"

My voice rises a little with annoyance. "Just get to the-"

"Okay! Sorry, I get worried sometimes. You hang out in shady places, with shady people. Gives me the creeps. Anyway, wanna come over for coffee or something? I couldn't sleep and I knew you'd be up and about anyway so I just thought…"

I turn a corner. I'm surprised to find the pickpocket lying on the pavement, clutching her ankle. I watch her struggle, visibly in pain. And then I feel bad. "Ah, great."

She spots me. "No! Please!"

"Whoa. Hold on a sec…"

"Get away from me!"

"Rouge, what's going on?"

"I'll call you back." I end the call and bend down to help the pickpocket. "Okay. What ha-"

She punches me in the face, then yelps because she's done it wrong.

"Ow! Little brat!" I clutch my stinging cheek and bite down some more choice words.

"Go away!"

I look back up at her, and I can see the fear, the desperation. It's not pleasurable.

The pickpocket sobs a little. She's so small. So dainty. Pretty and wretched.

I approach her more gently this time. "Shh. It's okay, I'm not gonna educate you anymore."

She slaps my outstretched hand aside. "Fuck you! Get back! Stay away from me, freak!"

I wince. Take a soothing breath. Speak. "Cool it, girl. You'll wake the whole neighbourhood-"

"No!"

"They'll think I'm trying to molest you…"

"Help!"

"That's right! I'm trying to help ya! Shut up!"

She tries to get up and run, only to cry out and fall onto her side. Again she grasps at her ankle. Evidently she's hurt it somehow.

I chew the inside of my cheek. "You've twisted your-"

"P-piss off, crazy lady!"

"Come on, let me look at it."

She hisses at me. "Get away!"

I reach out to her and she practically snaps at my fingers, causing me to pull back again with an irritated huff. "Foxy little vixen. Fine, lie there. See if some nice hobo offers you help."

She sniffles, crying but too stubborn to show it.

I don't leave and roll my eyes at the stupidity of the whole thing, offering her another hand. "Can I help you up, at least?"

She glares at the outstretched hand.

"I promise not to beat you up. Or whatever."

She hiccups, gazing morosely at the gutter.

"Aw, don't do that. Come on. Just take the fucking hand."

She turns her face back to me, lower lip trembling. It's abominably adorable. Her eyes are huge and gleaming.

I'm touched somewhere deep inside. I put on my nicest of smiles, just for a second or so, to reassure her. My voice reaches kind, rarely ventured levels. "I won't hurt you. Just wanna help right now. It's what I do, when all's said and done."

She sniffs my fingers, her black, doggish little nose twitching.

"There, there. Take my hand and I'll help you up."

Reluctantly she accepts it, fingers interlocking. She looks disbelieving. Like she can't believe she's trusting me with this. And I can respect that.

I pull her to her feet and she loses balance, falling against me. She's skin and bones beneath her ratty clothes. "Got a place to stay?" She doesn't smell so good, either.

She's quiet, favouring one foot, apparently trying to make sense of the situation.

"Hello?"

Finally she looks up at me, confused. "Why are you suddenly being nice?"

"You said it. Crazy lady."

"Are… are you crazy?"

"Batty. Totally."

She smiles a little. It's a frightened, unsure smile.

"Where do you live?"

"Nowhere. Anywhere. I don't really have a home. Anymore."

I snort into the black sky. My phone is again ringing. I ignore it. "Great. Runaway, right?"

"I… yes…"

"We have lots in common. Walk with me. Gotta answer the phone or my friend will hound me down, and then the whole planet will be in trouble."

"Mortal peril."

I smirk at the little fox girl. "You speak well for a stray."

"I haven't been on the streets very long," she admits quietly, holding onto my arm. She looks freaked out. Honestly, I am too.

"Yeah, well, maybe you can explain things a little after I answer this call. Two seconds." I draw my phone out my pocket again and answer it. "Hi, sorry about-"

"What happened?"

My little tagalong and I both jump and I nearly drop my phone with alarm.

"Sheesh, easy with the screaming, Amy."

"Who was that I heard just now? Is there someone with you? Is anyone hurt?"

"I can hear you fine. Stop speaking in your big voice."

"Stop patronising me and please tell me whether I ought to be worried."

I chuckle. "I'm fine, Amy. I've found a, um…" Turn to the vixen beside me. "What's your name, kid?"

"Fiona." She flinches as a truck chugs past, ducking behind me to avoid the headlights.

"Yeah, I've found a kid, Fiona. She's hurt and I'm taking her to the hos-"

"No!" the pickpocket interrupts me quickly, gripping my collar and pulling herself closer against me. She looks about like the shadows are out to get her. "Please, no hospital! I… I'm fine, thank you, I'll be leaving now."

"No shit." I grab her by the wrist when she clumsily tries to slip away. "You're not going anywhere on that ankle. And I'm still mad at you, so you're in for more lecturing, kid."

"Fiona! My name's Fiona!" She bares her teeth at me. "Let me go."

"Sorry, no dice. Fiona. I'm the responsible adult in this here situation, you see."

"I don't need your help. Or your pity."

"You've got me curious, doll face."

"Look, pervert. Let me go or I will hit you."

"Sweetie, you fight like a toddler."

"What, and you know how to fight?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. What, don't you recognise this face?"

"Guys? What's going on over there?"

Fiona studies me critically, then shakes her head. "Don't know you, lady."

"Rouge. The name's Rouge." I breathe down the phone to Amy's end. A long sigh. "This girl is messed up. What do I do with her?"

"Take her home, of course."

"She's got nowhere to go. Runaway."

"Oh. So she's like-"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Hey! I'm right here!"

I jab a finger at her. "Shush, you."

The vixen steps back, visibly affronted. It's odd. Despite the mulch, she carries herself like a rich girl trying to play it rough. She certainly doesn't belong on the streets.

"The police station?"

"I don't think that'll go down well, somehow."

"Okay… how about my place, then? You bring her here, we'll talk to her, sort things out. Get her someplace to stay."

I scratch my chin. "You sure? She's a feisty little crumpet."

"I'm fine as long as she doesn't steal anything, so keep an eye on her."

"I don't need your help! I'm sorry I tried to pickpocket you! Please, just leave me be, all right?"

I study Fiona for a moment before coming to my decision. "Right, I'm headed your way. Have the furry handcuffs ready. Wild night tonight."

Amy laughs in the following moments, but my captive looks absolutely horrified.

"Oh god, get away from me!" She wrenches herself out my grasp and tries to run, only to tumble onto her stomach again, groaning.

I let her lie at my boots for a few moments longer before addressing her round bottom, which I am staring at. "Are you gonna stop doing that, now?"

"Screw… you…"

"Attagirl. Let's get you out of here, then."

* * *

I splash lukewarm, murky water over my face one last time before finally hefting myself out the bath and drying off. Put on the clothes Amy set aside for me. They're men's clothes, but honestly, I don't care at all. Always have enjoyed cross-dressing from time to time. And again, I can't help but quietly appraise the girl for her thoughtfulness. She'd cut slits through the back for my wings. Definitely Amy. She's always doing little things like that for me. I'll have to return the favour sometime, somehow. Slip on the trinket, shove my wallet in my pocket, empty out the bath and I'm ready to go. I quickly brush my teeth while I'm at it, pretending the toothbrush is mine.

She looks up as I enter the room, bobbing her head with approval. "Nice. Very handsome."

"A little big, but…" I stroke the tattered old jeans and chequered shirt, my chest actually looking unobtrusive for a change. "Yep. I like 'em. Thanks for making room for my wings, by the way. How come you remember stuff like that, but I didn't even think about it?"

"I found scissors and figured you'd need holes to poke them through. And I know you'd neglect yourself without me." She winks. "You've gotten really slack over the years. Sit down and I'll get to work on your wings. How'd your leg look?"

"Bruised but sexy fine." I obey and try not to pull faces at the twinges of pain while she works, dabbing my wings with something that smells odd and burns like a bitch. "Don't think you'll need to do your doctoring thing for the old leg. What about you? How's the eye?"

"Fine, don't even feel it anymore." That doesn't exactly sound comforting, but I pretend not to notice.

"You, uh… still got pills on you?"

She stops abruptly, frozen in place. Her reply comes seconds later, quiet and carefully neutral. "Running low. I was supposed to go get more when everything went crazy on us."

"Ah. But you're not going to turn green and senselessly smash things in a violent fit of bestial fury anytime soon?"

"I think I'm okay." She resumes, though with significantly less comfortable motions. Her hands are shaking. "I didn't even realise until you mentioned it just now. I'm going to be out of pills soon. I haven't even taken any recently."

"And how do you feel?"

"Worried."

"Hey, don't worry. We'll find some along the road."

"Sonic makes me emotional. I'm just concerned… what if I run out by the time we find him, and I get upset? What if I make an idiot of myself in front of the kids? What if I-?"

"Try to throttle Sally again," I finish for her. "That was an awesome day. She should've known not to boss you around, hon. Little princess got her ass handed to her."

"It was awful! I made a scene and Sonic didn't speak to me for weeks after that. I was afraid they'd never forgive me."

"He got over it. You girls made up. Nobody died. No problem, right? So laugh about it."

She suddenly swabs my wing membrane a little too roughly, apparently not noticing my jerk of pain. "It wasn't funny, what I did. I don't like hurting people, Rouge."

"Well," I manage through my teeth. "You're doing a good job right now."

"Oh, no!" She jumps back, gasping, horrified. "I'm so, so sorry! See, I'm such a clumsy, destructive twit when I get emotional! I… I hope I didn't hurt you too badly… oh, just listen to me! I sound stupid and… and…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm not made of paper. You can manhandle me a little," I reply evenly, turning to regard her from over my shoulder. The sight of her trying to contain herself earns a sympathetic smile from me and I gently lay a large hand on her thigh. I can feel how tense she is. "Easy, girlfriend. No big deal. Chill. Relax."

She just shakes her head.

"Look, I'm fine, you're fine. We'll still be fine when-" If, I correct myself internally. Assuming Sonic still lives and I don't like to think about him too much. But I can't voice my concerns aloud, her heart is too set on finding him alive and well. "When we find Sonic and company. We'll still be fine."

She lets herself grow soft again. "Yes, you're right. Gotta stay optimistic."

"That's right. Now finish what you started."

"Right. Thank you."

I turn and she continues to tend to my wings, much more carefully this time. A few minutes later and I resume conversation. "How's it going back there?"

"I'm not going to lie. They look really, really bad. But clean! I'll gotten nearly all the bits out and swabbed them nicely. Then I'd like to bind them, if that's fine with you. It might hurt quite a bit."

"Don't bother. I'm used to the feeling of them the way they are by now."

"You sure?"

I nod. "Yep."

"All right, no binding." She gives my shoulder a brief squeeze. "Well, you're done. I think we should gather what supplies we can and head out to look for-"

"SKREEEEEE!"

We both jump up at once, upsetting the small table. The medical supplies are scattered, solution pouring all over the floor and staining a small rug.

"SKREEEEAAAAARGH!"

"That wasn't you, I presume."

"Nuh-uh."

The wall opposite us caves in and a hulking something stands over the rubble, towering on all four of its bent legs, its horned head lowered and eyeless skull gleaming wet, probably with blood though from here it looks like dripping, sickly ink. Its lower jaw hangs open, split in half midway to form mandibles of sorts and a gaping hole beyond, pulsing with serrated fleshy walls, leads down into the depths of its throat. It screams again.

"He's upset." I step back.

Amy draws her hammer from the air itself. "Me too." And she sounds it. Perhaps a little more than upset, judging by the gleam in her green eyes. "I do hate being interrupted."

"SKREEEE-"

"Shut up, ugly!"

The rhino beast swings its head in a great sweeping motion, the blow throwing furniture aside with ease and scraping up floorboards, leaving them splintered in the wake of the passing horn. There's no way past it that doesn't line us up directly to be impaled or crushed by that massive head. The door seems so far away.

"You get out of here, I'll distract him."

"You sure? That's a big bastard."

She doesn't reply, suddenly charging headlong at the monster and jumping high at the last second, curling into a spinning ball that cracks down on the beast's head with the sound of a roaring buzzsaw.

I turn and run, throwing the door open, sending the severed hand flying to bounce off of a tree.

The sound of combat really sets the mood.

I turn back in time to watch the hulking brute being thrown backwards like a ragdoll by an unimaginable force, rolling over the grass again and again until lying relatively still, twitching, head dribbling sticky black.

The familiar, little pink hedgehog emerges from the collapsing house shortly after, her hammer raised and gleaming under the sun. That girl is pissed. And her strength is scary when she's even a little bit angry.

I clearly remember being the target of her anger more than once in the past. It makes me shudder. I almost feel bad for the critter.

"I am so sick-" She lunges, whacking the rhino monster in the face with her mallet before her adversary can stand, following that mere slap by a more serious blow, bringing down her hammer so hard on the brute that a pained cry of surprise is heard. But her voice rings louder than the rest of the noise. "So sick of all of this sudden violence! Die, die, die! Why won't you things just leave us alone, huh?"

"Amy!" I cast a glance at the distance, other large shapes moving quickly toward us. "There's a whole herd of them! Come on, we gotta go! Now!"

She skids to a halt, rethinking her next strike, then turns and meets me so fast I actually can't see it, just a pink flash before I'm suddenly scooped up bridal style and carried swiftly toward the horizon. "Here we go!"

I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto her. Mud is flying. I'm filthy all over again. I feel a little sick. How very romantic, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

My writing style keeps changing, so this late update might feel a little different.

Please enjoy, and thank you so much to all who have reviewed.

* * *

"Hiya!"

"Wha – oh." Sigh. Not this again.

Fiona grins, sprawled over my couch as if she owns it, a glass of red wine in hand and my most expensive cigarette brand dangling from her pointed teeth and plump, parted lips most tantalisingly. "So! How was your day?"

"Fine." My eyes narrow on the uninvited guest. She snuck in, clever bitch. I cannot remember the number of times I've come home to find her chilling here. This happens often, too often for my taste. She's hardly at her apartment. And it's a nice apartment. "What are you doing here?" I know the answer to this question all too well by now, yet still I ask.

"Nothin'. Just taking a day off of prison."

"It's not prison," I tell her blandly.

"Close enough to one, I bet." She flutters her lashes. "What, aren't you happy to see your student?"

"No. You're supposed to be in school. Learning." I jab a finger at her. "Not bunking in my place, taking my shit without asking for it."

"Aw, don't be like that. This is my second home. I thought I was welcome anytime I wanted."

I sigh, dropping my briefcase on the floor before taking a seat on a chair. "Right. I've had a long day, and I'm tired." Thread my fingers through my hair. Ponder; how shall I deal with this girl today? She's gotten far too cosy. Too comfortable. I'm not her sugar momma, and that's something she's got to remember. I'll be firm and direct with her. Yeah. That's what I'll do.

Her eyes are like gemstones.

"I'm going to get right to the point. Why are you bunking?"

"Well, that's obvious. I got bored. Thought I'd come bother you for a bit. You're way more fun, teach." The vixen stretches a leg out languidly.

"Girl, take it from personal experience. That shit's serious. An education's necessary. It's an important factor that'll likely determine your future. Do you want to be a strumpet?"

"You make the word sound so tempting."

"Fiona…"

She huffs out smoke. "Don't be such a mom."

"I'm serious. You gotta stop doing this. Especially since I'm the one paying for you."

"And I appreciate that. But I've said it before – fuck school. I'm smart enough. And I've got you! You've sure taught me a lot."

I feel a headache coming on. Eyes close. Open again to behold smugness. "I want an honest life for you."

"Yet you got me into the business."

"No. I taught you that nonsense because you were eager to learn it, and… and it was a part of my past. Who I was." Lay a hand on my chest. My heart is still beating. "But I've grown up now. And I've been around the block a few times, sweetie. I've learnt through shit and glory that being a thief is no way to live. Now gimme that cigarette."

She plucks it out her mouth and hands it over, grinning when I snatch it from her, uncaring for the sprinkled ash on my lovely new carpet. "You're stressed, huh?"

"Fuck, yes." Take a drag to soothe myself. Ready. Okay. "The kids are just really dumb nowadays. I'm trying but between ogling my ass-ets and throwing paper planes the brats learn nothing. Waste of breath even trying. One or two bright ones in my classes. The rest – losers."

She gives me an almost sympathetic look-over. "Why'd you go into teaching, anyway?"

I scoff. "Thought I could redeem myself. I've got a lot of guilt to carry. Makes me age faster."

"You don't look old."

"I feel it, doll face. I feel ancient."

She rolls over so she's lying on her stomach, carefully setting wine and glass down. "Quit."

I start a little. "What?"

"Quit the job."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? You've got tonnes of cash."

"I… just can't. Okay?"

She smiles. "Feel responsible for your dumbass kids, right?"

"Sure. That, and the school wouldn't be happy about it." I perk up a little at the thought of all the broken hearts I'd leave behind. "I'm pretty popular."

"I imagine."

We're quiet for a while.

"Hey, teach?"

"Hmm."

"I brought you something. From my last heist."

"You know I don't like it when you steal-"

From the depths of her cleavage she produces a modest diamond.

It sparkles.

My heart skips a beat.

She grins.

"Get that thing out of my house."

"No."

"I told you!"

"So?"

"Dammit, woman, I'll relapse!"

"Yeah. So what if you do?"

"It's… it's a condition!" I crawl back in my chair as she rises from the couch, gem held out, a saunter in her step. "I… can't help…"

"Take it."

"Please."

"Just take it." She bends over, holding the rock to my nose. "I got it with you in mind."

I swallow. The old temptation is back. And it's strong.

"It's a gift. You don't refuse those."

I feel sweat on my brow.

"Look at it this way; since I have nothing else but the things I take from people, and I have you to thank for fixing up my life so far, I'm giving this to you. A present. For getting me off the street. For training me. For everything." Her free hand brushes my cheek, fingertips tracing my jaw. "Just take it," she murmurs gently.

I can't stop my shaky talons from seizing the jewel, and she lets me have it with bared teeth. Just touching the cold solidness brings euphoria greater than a hundred smoked cigarettes to my head, then my whole body. A missing part of myself comes back for a while. I know that if I give in, I'll have to take again and again to keep feeling high like this.

"You're unhappy."

I am.

She's right.

Everything she says is true.

"This is what you want. Let me make you happy again. I've gotten good at stealing. Quit your job and come treasure hunting with me. I've read the old articles. You were great back then. You were the best." She presses her cold little nose to mine, whispering sweetly to my eager ears, "Together we'll be unstoppable."

"Fiona…" There are tears in my eyes. I understand the futility of my rehabilitation. So many years. So much hard work. It's lost in daydreams of youth and adventure. Chains break. I realise that I miss the feeling of not giving a care for anyone else but myself. The haunting beauty of diamonds, perfect mirrors, enhancing my reflection a million times over. Just me, and my greed. The world was mine once upon a time.

She kisses me. It's our first kiss, and I guess I should've seen it coming.

I let myself be wholly seduced.

* * *

Amy eventually skids to a clumsy halt, panting heavily. "I… think we… lost them…"

I can't reply. I feel ill.

"Holy… guacamole!" she manages in a wheeze. "That was fast! And I'm not even that tired! Phew, that's awesome."

"Gah," I reply eloquently.

"Uh-oh."

"Wah?"

"I think I may have overshot again," she mumbles into my hair after a moment of quiet, a moment of catching our breath and getting used to a now still world lacking so much turbulence and the sensation of being weightless. "I wasn't really paying attention to where we were going… but it's not necessarily a problem, right?"

I open my eyes at last and take a deep breath, turning in her arms, head craning upward and all around. We're surrounded by trees, the ground dappled in shadows cast by the leafy canopy above our heads, dancing in a breeze. The sky, no longer dark with pregnant rain clouds, is shockingly bright, a blistering white canvas. I realise we're in a forest. Very intelligent of me.

"But it looks right, doesn't it? I mean, the Acorn royal family, trees… acorns being in trees. Makes sense." My pink companion laughs. It is a nervous, exhausted laugh. "Who knows? I might've brought us right to the castle walls subconsciously!"

I open my mouth to speak, to tell her that doesn't exactly make much sense, only to slap a hand over it and gesture wildly to the ground. Aw, crap. And I see no walls. No castle.

"Oh, sorry!" She puts me down gently and jumps back when I heave at the ground much like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. "Are you okay?"

My ears fold back and I shake my head jerkily, mouth open wide, shoulders hunched and trembling, eyes watering.

"Um, okay. Just breathe… relax… don't panic… I'll just be over here if you need anything."

I shoot her boots a glare as she quickly trumps elsewhere. I continue to barf without actually throwing up anything, miraculously, and my efforts produce the most fantastic braying sound.

Moments later and she starts to giggle into a tree trunk.

I am capable of speech by this stage. "I can hear you over my dying!" I settle myself, just thankful I didn't puke up my jam sandwiches. Or a lung. That reminds me; I want a cigarette really badly.

"I'm sorry, you just sounded… pfft!"

I push myself back onto my feet, a little wobbly.

"You're fine, right? No pain? Dizziness?"

"My tummy hurts."

She gives me a sympathetic expression. "Aaw. Do you want to sit down? Or I can carry you…"

"No! Not that again!"

"I'll go slowly this time, I swear!"

"No thanks." I fold my arms with a scowl. "And you laughed at me."

"Hey." She shrugs, smiling apologetically. "It was really funny. For a while. I feel bad about it now, honest."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Let's find Sonic," I reply tersely. That stupid asshole. He never deserved such an annoying, charming little fangirl. Kick his ass when we find him for not saving the world already. If he still has an ass to kick.

Amy beams and skips over to me, gently taking my arm and pulling me along. "Great! Off we go, then!"

"You're cheerful," I mutter, walking far less enthusiastically after her, stoking my belly with my free hand and erasing the whole dry puking incident from memory. It never happened.

"Right," she starts, ignoring me. Amazing how she does that. Even more amazing how I continually tolerate it. "We'll of course need to make sure we're in the right forest. And if we are, then we've got to locate the castle, assuming Sonic doesn't find us first. Or one of his soldier guys. You know, I love those uniforms."

"I can picture you in one."

"Yeah, and with one of those sword things. Then I'd get knighted and you'd have to call me 'Sir Amy'." She puffs out her chest. "I think that sounds awesome. By the way, do you know where we are, exactly?"

I look around disinterestedly. "I dunno. It's forest. Like all the rest."

"Not true. You get rainforests, and they're sufficiently different. This is more of a-"

"Ya! Okay! You're right. This forest is very special and individualistic. Cut the botany lesson short and climb up that big tree over there." I aim a nod at said tree. "Take a look around. Find any landmarks or castles or whatever."

She looks mildly annoyed with being ordered around but releases me and trots perkily over to the tree I've gestured toward, then stops, a little apprehensive. "Umm…"

"What?"

"It's a little big, isn't it?"

"That it is. Why?"

"Well, climbing up that monster might be a little hazardous. I'll have to get my arms around it and I don't think falling from that height would do either of us any good."

"Too much for you to handle? Like your saplings, huh?"

"Shush, you darned bat. Your prattle is interrupting my thought process. Brain things happening here." She jabs a dramatic finger at her head and glares me down with surprising ferocity. Even for her.

I pretend not to notice and study the tree myself. "You're right. It's far too big for your meagre frame. I'll do it."

"Nuh-uh, I can handle it. Besides, I'd be a terrible friend if I made you climb all the way up there with that leg being injured and all. No, no, it's fine. I'll do the work."

I put my hands on my waist and raise my nose at her. "I am not crippled!"

She's ignoring me again, struggling to claw her way up the trunk, slipping down every few inches but gradually ascending. She makes a few feet and moves a little faster, then tragically loses her grip, hitting the grassy earth on her heels.

"Oops. You okay?"

Back where she started, she slams a boot on the ground and makes a strangled squealing sound.

"That was cute."

"Aaaargh! Bother!"

"I can't fly, but I might be able to 'hop' up the tree. Capture pockets of air and climb them for momentum." I spread my wings and pull a pained face. It's very sore.

"No, we'll find a way around this that doesn't involve you hurting yourself further. Put those away." She scratches her chin in thought. "Hmm…"

I poke my tongue at her back and grudgingly tuck my wings neatly, or somewhat so, behind me. Cast a worried glance at them. Sigh. They're hanging in tatters. She's right; I'd probably just rip them completely if I exerted them. I've already ruined them past repair. "So what do you plan to do, pink one?"

"Well… maybe if I backed up and rolled my way up the trunk like Sonic showed me, I might be able to go up… looked hard, though, and there's a lot of branches… pointy… could stab me in the eye… yeah, crashing into one of those could cause an injury, yep…"

"Maybe we should use a smaller tree."

"Nah, I'm determined now. I have to conquer this tree. I must, for my honour." She steps backward, gesturing for me to move away. "Just cover your face or something. Don't want any accidents. Gonna kick up a storm." I'd roll an eye, but she's that little bit extra adorable when determined, so she's spared.

I obey. I hear the familiar sound of swift pacing, followed by the earth being ground into. I imagine her rolling into a ball and spinning fast. This mental image matches the dirt I can feel splashing me like the mud from our run before. This is followed shortly by the sound of wood being carved into and a sudden, worrying grunt, then a muffled thud of impact.

"Shit!"

"Amy?" I drop my arms, disbelieving. She used the poop word and that's serious. "You all right?"

The dust settles and I'm greeted with a dusty, muddy, very annoyed hedgehog seated on her rump at the base of the tree and glaring sourly up at it from within her trench, the wound of her failed ascent leaving a furrow in the ground and trunk, several branches snapped away.

"What happened?"

"I hit a branch and spun off it." She points at the aforementioned branch, now split in half.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Only my pride." Pause. Then, "Stupid tree."

I laugh and she reluctantly begins to laugh with me.

We're in hysterics for at least a minute before she tries to defend herself and my tummy hurts even worse, so I can't cackle quite so boisterously at her misfortune anymore.

"Stop it!" she shrieks. "It's not funny!"

"W-wow." I collect myself, applauding her while I put a lid on my amusement, gracefully sealing it. "So that's what Sonic taught you, huh?"

"He did it a lot more often than me." She pretends to dejectedly kick a stone away as she manages to stand, cheeks aflame. "And I don't think I like your tone, young lady."

"Well, regardless… that was our hilarious fail of the day!"

She spins around to wave a correcting fist in my direction. "Shut up. This time, I will do it right! Just watch me!"

I merely raise my hand in a salute to guard my eyes, feeling sufficiently less threatened as I take stance behind a boulder, peeking at her from behind the solid, reassuring object. "Okay, I'm ready. Blow me away, baby."

She backs away from the tree once more and then charges toward it, dropping into a stunning spin and riding up the tree trunk like a pink tyre abandoning its motorcycle at high speed on the road, going solo. She ends up veering off course and falls back to the ground, landing somewhat clumsily on her feet, hissing with annoyance.

"You hurt yet?"

"No!"

"I'll give you a six for that one. Nice form. Loved that little battle strut. You took on that tree with style. Such gusto. So that's four for enthusiasm and two for technique."

"Right! Any more of that and I'll throw you up the tree. This time, I will do it. So stop judging me and prepare to be amazed!"

I make a zipping motion across my mouth and she tries yet again to spin dash up the tree. I watch disinterestedly, expecting her to fail, my brows shooting upward when the unexpected happens.

She succeeds.

"Whoa!"

"Ha! I did it!" Dangling from a thick branch like the kitten in those encouragement posters, she grins down at me and then hoists herself up. "I totally conquered this tree!"

"And killed it."

"What?"

"And killed it!" I yell back up at her, gesturing to the buckled and splintered wood. "I think you should apologise."

"Oh." She awkwardly pats a leaf. "Sorry, tree." Then she begins to climb her way upward manually, and I step out from behind my shield, waiting for her at the bottom, watching like a hawk. Her movements are cautious, but girlishly keen. "I'm almost there."

"Can you see anything?" I ask once she's stopped climbing and looks around from her high vantage point. I feel useless down here. And I am.

"What?"

I cup my hands to my mouth. "I can see up your dress!"

"That's not what you said last time!" She glowers down at me, then resumes her close scrutiny.

"What can you see up there?"

"I see…" She leans forward on her branch. "Forest. Lots of it. And… oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?"

"The castle," she breathes to the open air, her shoulders visibly slumping. "I did bring us to the right forest. I can see it. It's in really bad shape, Rouge."

I swallow. "We better get there quickly, then."

* * *

I drop to my knees with dull, final thud. "No…"

Shadow coughs. Coughs up blood. The warm, bubbling, crimson fluid dribbles down his chin. His eyes, like fire, flicker with each weak batter of his butterfly lashes. His brows crease. Weakly he murmurs my name. He searches for me in the dark.

This is a nightmare.

Please.

Wake me up.

I scoop him into my arms like a babe, the once proud hedgehog now a broken, manic doll of his former self. A shadow. "I'm here, baby." Offer him a reassuring smile. "I'm right h-here." Don't let him hear how frightened I am.

His gaze rolls over to meet mine, softening with recognition. Slowly, painfully, he manages the smallest of grins, satisfied after all the fighting and the destruction to see me with him now. He only wanted some understanding. To remake the world in his image. Peace and prosperity. A perfect future, under his leadership. Like his Maria would have wanted.

I stroke the length of his quills. I should've seen the signs. I know now. I should have been there when he fell. His spiral into depression was my fault.

My fault.

My fault.

I'm so selfish. I should've been there. I should've been his caretaker. I knew more than anyone how dangerous he is, how many lives he could take with a violent, cataclysmic, airy wave of his hand.

I should have, should have, should have.

"What have you done to yourself?"

He whimpers, trying to answer but unable to get the words out his crushed ribcage. Weakly he raises a bloody hand and lays it on my cheek, as if to forgive my transgressions.

Many sets of feet tread closer with uncertainty, my ears following their approach.

The tears come like acid melting my makeup. I look up, and Sonic's sad face is hovering over us, his green eyes filled with sympathy and regret. He had no choice. He had to do it. Had to. Don't be angry with him. He saved us. He's a hero.

I was in love with the villain, I suppose.

Look further on and I see Sally is standing beside her man, her hand to her heart and apologies burning on her tongue. She so desperately wants to be the leader here, to say something that'll make it all better, even as Shadow is fucking dying in my arms and she helped rip him to bits. I know in my heart, though; she had no choice either.

None of them did.

It was either Shadow or us and the world.

I understand, as much as I want to scream and hurt and cry.

This is what fighting for Freedom is all about. Sacrifice and war. Victories come with losses. You always lose something when you give yourself to a noble cause.

But I didn't want to be noble.

I didn't.

That's why I distanced myself.

To escape Sonic and all of this.

My watery gaze falls on Tails; a young man with raw wounds inside and outside, the boy so visibly upset I feel bad for him feeling bad for me.

Then there's Knuckles. Big, handsome, red, manly. My wet dream, flanked by the tomboyish and pink Julie, his companion. They are a couple made for each other in every way. Him – what I want. Her – everything I am not. They'll be happy. I can't ask for more. I wish them well with reluctance.

But before I admit I've lost him forever, I give him the most pitiful look I have ever worn. There's no shame in it. Why would I care? I've lost. Lost it all with my own stupid inaction. I gambled away my chances carelessly, and now the poverty has stripped me of my dignity. He can see me vulnerable this one time and then we'll go our separate ways when the sun has set and he won't find me in the dark. Never again. He won't find me.

He reaches out as if to touch, but he stays back, conflict in his amethyst eyes.

I swallow.

"Rouge…" The voice of the echidna is filled with commiseration.

I nod ever so slightly. It's okay. I'm okay. Forget about it.

His mitt falls to his side lifelessly. He's so very sorry this all happened. He realises, in this drawn-out instant, the truth. I really did love the guy. He knows, I think, that I'll be leaving soon. Torn between stopping me and letting me go.

Turn my head. I don't need him to feel sorry. There's one last person I want to get an eyeful of before I do my thing and vanish.

Amy. Naive, wilful little Rose. The – I see it now – kind and spirited young girl who believed in positive change with all her huge heart. The one person, because I came too late, who only reasoned with Shadow today. She never landed a blow on him even when he had her throat in his fist and her love beneath his heel.

I don't care her more than three seconds of soul-searching eye contact before I bury my face between Shadow's ebony ears, shutting out all the rest, breathing in his finale exhale.

Team Dark is disbanded.

* * *

I don't know if any of this makes sense, but I owe you guys a finished story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

Hi, everyone. Here's an update. It really happened. A miracle!

Just a quick note:

I actually started writing this story before I'd ever heard of Generations. Thusly, any similarities between my fic and the aforementioned game title are entirely inadvertent. And here I was, thinking that my plot was original. Dammit.

Flashbacks are not necessarily depicted in order. This is so that I may attempt to bewilder you with them.

Changed genres. Also, rating has been upped from T to M due to language, though I'll take advantage of the change for more than just swearing at things. Perhaps the horror elements of this story will become more evident.

Discovered errors in the third and fifth chapters are fixed. I appreciate having them pointed out. Please, if you see a mistake and plan on reviewing, make a note of my booboo. I am a one woman team and I tend to miss things during the editing process. Your help is invaluable. You make the story better.

Lastly, I love pizza. End of note.

Before we start the story, I wanna finish off with this. Thanks so much for the concrit and praise. What you think of my fiction genuinely matters to me. This story has been a challenge to write, but knowing that somebody's interested in my ideas makes all the stress worthwhile.

Please, friends, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Traversing through the increasingly mangled forest, my eyes begin to burn, causing them to water a little. Acrid smoke now clogs my nostrils and fouls the taste of my mouth. Whilst wholly bearable, it is unpleasant. I cover my muzzle with my hand, hoping to minimise the effects as my fellow survivor and I break through row upon row of partially collapsed trees at a jog for my sake, because my leg doesn't like the idea of going any faster. My stomach aches dully. "You know, it's weird."

Negotiating the uneven forest floor, Amy sounds distracted as she replies between haggard pants, "What is?"

"The lack of things actively trying to kill us. This place is too quiet."

"Mm, and the fresh air is really starting to get to me."

I roll my eyes at the sarcasm, my hip grazing the edge of a fallen trunk I pass. Secretly, though, I'm concerned. She's been acting funny these last few minutes. She's been a little different ever since she got down from that tree, and I don't think it has anything to do with the ugliness we are experiencing. I think it's Sonic. Purely Sonic.

Her silence all but confirms my suspicions.

I refrain from coughing. I can hear her pills ratting in her pocket. I hope she won't need them anymore. That maybe she's finally figured out how to cope with it. How to cope with Sonic. "You can try carrying me again," I offer. I sound like an idiot whilst doing so. "Granted, I might throw up on you, but we'll get there faster."

She doesn't respond. A bad sign.

"Amy?"

Still nothing.

I frown. "Are you okay?"

Finally, she replies to me, her tone almost flat. "I'm fine. Just… thinking about Sonic. And Sally. Their kids. All our friends we've left behind." She sighs. "I really hope they're all okay. But at the same time, I'm afraid of seeing them again. It's stupid."

"No, it's not." Feel my guts twist uneasily. "I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Yep."

Things between us grow quiet for a few seconds.

She ends the pause first, speaking gently. "This whole incident has reminded me just how far I've grown from the people I care about. Well…" She aims a small, affectionate smile at me from over her shoulder. "Except for you. Honestly, we're the last people anybody would expect to become best friends. Yet here we are."

There's a warm inkling in my bosom. I smile back. It's one of the rare times I've smiled at someone and really meant it. She is a lovely girl. Shake my head. "Eh, stop it." Getting fuzzy is not for me.

"After today, I want to involve myself in their lives. I want to be there for them. Just like when we were-"

"Young."

"That's right. Like when we were young. All of us together, fighting evil. Being heroes. I want it to be like that again."

It's my turn to be quiet. She makes the past sound so… heavenly. And to think I'd tried to get away from all of that.

* * *

"I need a place to stay for a while." There is a moment of hesitation. Then, more quietly, "If you don't mind."

I lower my cup of steamy tea, giving my unusually shy guest a probing look-over. Hard to believe that this figure huddled over coffee is the same Ultimate Life Form I remember kicking baddie ass with a few months ago. He's moderately dirty, unkempt, and if my keen eyes aren't deceiving me, looking thin. I wonder what he's done with himself all this time. I wish he'd come to me sooner. Arrogant man.

He flexes his jaw, obviously in some strain. "I could help around the club. I'm sure you're always looking for an extra set of hands. Big place."

"True."

"Look. I won't cause you grief, and I won't hold it against you if you say no." There's something about the way he awkwardly shifts his boot that wins me over.

"Yes."

Shadow's brows rise a fraction, though he keeps his hot gaze lowered. He's giving his coffee a mildly questioning look. "Yes?"

"Yes," I repeat, managing a straight face despite his odd behaviour. Though I suppose that if I were in his state, I'd be acting funnily, too. "I accept your offer. I do need the help and besides, I'm not about to let down a friend in need."

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to comment on the friend part, but doesn't know how to. Or chooses not to say anything.

With a tiny bit of affection evident in my drawl, I add kindly, "You're welcome to stay, hon."

His crimson gaze darts upwards, studying my mask with probing intensity most would find terrifying, though I feel quite safe to be in the same room with this exotic, potentially dangerous creature. "Are you sure?"

My mask cracks and I smile slightly. "I think so."

"I don't mean to intrude. I know you're busy."

"Duh. I run this little place all by myself. I work my ass off. Think I'm going to refuse free labour?"

His face softens. "I suppose not."

There is a pause.

I tilt my head, seeing him from another angle. "It's almost like you want me to refuse," I offer jokingly, noting how he's returned to looking unconvinced.

He shakes his head, quills bouncing with the motion. "Just making certain."

"Well, it'd be rather silly of me to say no to you. You're smart. Capable. And you've got the sex appeal. Just think of it; the ladies are going to love you. I'm putting your ass in a cage the moment you've had a bath and something to eat. Hope you can dance."

His features become stony. He is motionless, save for one of his ears turning ever so slightly toward the door.

Quickly I raise a hand, flashing him a shit-eating grin. "Just kidding. No cage."

His facial features alleviate moderately, making him appear more at ease, though not comfortable.

"I may make you work the bar after a crash course. Think you can handle mixing drinks and deflecting drunken compliments?"

He nods once. "Yes."

"Great. You're hired."

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling loudly through his nose, he sits forward in his chair, carefully placing his mug on the table between us. I notice that he's thoughtful enough make use of one of the crystal coasters in my collection. "Rouge."

I take a sip of my tea, waiting for him to continue.

"Thank you," is all he says, though he says it in a soft-spoken way that is somehow truly profound.

"No problem. Hey, since we'll be under the same roof and all, do you think maybe we'll start using pet names? Shaddy sounds cute."

His red eyes, fierce and unblinking, continue to delve into mine as he sits silent and erect. His glare reads much subtext. It's not a happy face.

"Or not." I pout, huffing into my cup. "No fun, hon."

He proceeds to ignore the exchange. "I won't forget this," he assures me before abruptly standing, taking a soldierly posture.

"Yeah, sure. Tell me something. Why didn't you go to Sonic? Sure, he's your rival and he's kinda… well, he's Sonic. But he could've made a real difference. I don't think people have forgotten about-"

"I felt more comfortable coming to you."

I blink. I am not sure how to respond.

He steps forward and offers me his hand, saying, "It won't bite," when I simply stare at it.

I feel a tiny shiver skittle down my spine as I finally reach back to him, gently accepting his hand, smudged glove and all, into mine. His digits are strong. He has firm grip, but not painfully so. I find it quite comforting. His touch seems more concrete to me than with most people. There's nothing deceitful about it.

It's just a simple, obligatory handshake between two familiar individuals.

No apparent feeling.

Soon he lets me go, straightening his back and pacing away. Once stationary at the other end of the room he folds his arms. He looks elsewhere. He offers no explanation for his behaviour. He is withdrawn.

I lower my attention to my palm. To the brown marks of filth that he has left behind. "What happened to you?" I ask the other occupant of the room. "Where exactly have you been?"

"Humph." He is silent for a time. Then he purrs back monotonously, "It's a long story."

"And you're not the talkative type."

"No."

We've reached an understanding.

"Fine. As long as you're okay, I'm happy." I shrug, pulling a tissue from my pocket to wipe my soiled hand. His business. Not mine.

* * *

We're greeted by a dismal scene.

"Fuck…"

"Oh… this is awful…"

Castle Acorn is in ruin. The dust raised by its collapsed corpse makes it hard to see, harder to breathe. Echoing voices emanate from within.

There is a small camp a little ways aside.

"Hey!" Amy runs ahead of me, leaping over slabs of beautiful rock that had once formed comforting walls. "Over here!" Her voice carries on the wind.

"Amy?"

"Sal!"

People come running to greet us. People in colour.

We are not the only ones left.

* * *

"Pass me the baking tin, won't you, dear?"

Heavy, metallic footfalls resound at my back.

"Here."

I turn to my assistant with a grin, taking the tray from his claws. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," Omega drones back.

Returning to my workstation, I begin sharing out the dough. "You know, it's such a pity you can't eat any of these cookies."

"It is of little importance."

"You just like baking, huh?"

"Affirmative." He brings a metallic hand forward, pointing. "That cookie is larger than its relatives. Analysis; modifications to mass should be made to ensure fair distribution."

"Ah, but it's mine."

"Oh. Never mind."

The way he manages to voice emotion with such stoicism brings a chuckle out of me. Cute robot.

* * *

The pink hedgehog meets royalty at a sprint, Amy leaping into Sally's arms. They seem like the best of friends, any grudges between them forgotten. They hold each other tight for a long, emotional moment, ignoring the men and women who crowd around them, some joining in, making it a group hug.

My ears turn back as far as they will go. I growl, but it's to no avail. I'm held and petted by thankful, happy, filthy and smelly animals from all sides. I don't even know any of these people. Stranger danger! Is that someone's hand on my ass? "Hey, watch it, pal."

"Okay, let's give our friends some space to breathe."

At Sally's command the ocean thins, some of the crowd returning to the campsite, others standing back, staring at Amy and I with hope and admiration. It's the shitty thing about being recognised as a Freedom Fighter. It doesn't matter that we haven't been active in years. You never live it down. People expect miracles from you. The more Freedom Fighters there are gathered in one place, the greater the expectancy becomes.

"Amy. Rouge. It's so good to see you. Thank goodness you're both all right."

Suddenly Sally is in my personal space, her open arms taking me into a tight embrace. "I didn't get to hug you before," she explains in jest.

"Um…" I awkwardly lay my hands on her dainty waist, very aware of the eyes on me. "Hi. Long time, eh?"

"Yes. If only the circumstances were less grim." She then releases me, her grin tired, but genuine. "We must catch up sometime."

"Sure." I gesture to the camp. "You look like you have your hands full."

"We're managing, but we could definitely use your help if you're willing."

"Of course," Amy answers for me. Her eyes, however, are on the smallest one present; a little girl who looks just like Sally.

"Great. Thanks so much."

Said little girl clears her throat in a polite, decidedly mature fashion.

"Ah, how rude of me. Amy, Rouge, meet Sonia." Queen Acorn's blue eyes, once exhausted, fill with adoration. "My daughter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," greets the princess in a regal tone.

"Hey, kiddo. Look just like your momma."

Amy manages a faint smile, but doesn't say anything. I'm not entirely sure how she feels about this.

"Come, let's move back to the camp. I'll fill you two in on what's happened." With that said, Sally takes the lead, along with her daughter's hand. We're guided toward the encampment at a brisk walk.

Halfway there, Rose asks, "Where's Sonic?"

Sonia answers for her mother. "Dad is… hurt."

I aim a glance the pink hedgehog's way, seeing how a look of horror twists her features.

"Sonic's injured? How? Is it serious?"

Sally's eyes are downcast. "He's unconscious. We're keeping a close eye on him. One of those things he fought did something to him. Put something on him."

There's a collective chill and an appropriate shudder.

"But he'll be okay soon, right, Mom?"

"Yes, dearest. He'll be just fine."

We enter the camp.

"He's in here."

We cautiously brush a tent's flap aside, peering into the darkness within the shelter.

Sonic looks peacefully asleep, his face all that is revealed. The rest of him is hidden beneath fabric.

"Sonia, sweet pea, would you please check on your brother for me." It's not a request. Rather, a gentle command imbued with love.

The girl gives her father a longing look, then turns and scampers to another tent.

Queen Acorn exhales, her shoulders lowering steadily. "I don't want to expose her to this any more than she has been exposed already," she explains whilst reaching out to her husband and carefully pulling down the blanket that covers him. "She shouldn't see her father like this."

We soon understand why, once the sight of him sinks in.

Amy's jaw drops, her body seizes up with revulsion, and the distraught girl doesn't try to withhold her agonised sob. "S-Sonic…"

My hand finds hers, gripping it tightly. The other moves to cover my mouth. My eyes bulge. "Oh, god…"

The smell is foul.

* * *

"You've been hiding."

Startled, I jolt out of my unpleasant reverie, turning from the glass and bottle of booze on my dresser to find Shadow suddenly there, watching me with lack of sympathy. "You don't knock," I tell him blandly.

"May I enter?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

He moves to where I sit on the edge of the big bed, now standing before me. He's glaring down on my head. Silently judging.

"Look, did you want something?"

"You're upset."

I avoid his eyes, reaching for the alcohol instead.

He grabs my glass before I can and purposely, though at the same time with nonchalance, moves my drink far out of reach.

I grumble something unintelligible.

"You usually mingle with your patrons. They're asking about you."

"So you're up here on their behalf, hmm?"

He sighs. "Not exactly."

Finally I look up at him. I'm surprised to find some genuine concern in there, subtly mingling with the typical crossness that makes up his somewhat limited facial expression. "You're so sexy," I tell the dark hedgehog in my bedroom, gaze then falling to his fluffy chest. He's filled out a bit. I'm sure of it.

"What's wrong?" he asks sternly.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I owe you a pep talk."

I snort. "Oh, gee, this'll be good."

He moves, easing himself down on the bed beside me, respectable distance between us. "You have a nice room," he says vaguely.

"Gets lonely."

"Humph."

I study his severe, angular profile. Notice with some amusement that one of his ears is turned a bit my way, patiently waiting.

He stares out the large windows that lead to a balcony and beyond that, a stunning view of the city lit up this night. His eyes reflect the vibe in all its brightness and colours, the glistening reflection stained red.

"Knuckles and Julie are official. Well, okay, they have been for some time. But it's different now."

"How so?"

My throat seizes up. Swallow to clear some space for a reply. "She's pregnant."

Shadow makes a thoughtful sound. "I see."

"You know what's so fucked up? I cannot feel happy for them. Instead, I feel like I've lost something important. It hurts." Shake my head at the stupidity of it all. I've never felt this way before. Not about some guy. "Hurts quite a bit."

"You'll get over it."

"This isn't very peppy, you know."

She shrugs. "It's fact. You're beautiful. You're intelligent. You have substance. It makes you interesting. You'll get over it. Either you'll find someone else or you won't. Either way, you'll be fine."

I blush. It's not exactly common for this hedgehog to compliment me.

He smirks. "I find it hard to believe that you're hung up over the echidna."

"That's also pretty fucked up, huh? I just like the colour red."

The Ultimate Life Form makes the mistake of looking my way.

"Your eyes are the loveliest shade of red I've ever seen."

"You're drunk."

I lean over to rest my cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling the side of his cheek. "I know."

He and I sit together in companionable quiet.

"Do you feel better at all?" he asks eventually, whispering into my hair.

My toes curl in my slippers. "Yes."

"Good." He shifts, as if about to leave, only stopped by my hand seizing his arm. He glares at it enquiringly.

"You asked someone to watch the bar, right?"

"I did."

"Stay. Sit with me. Talk. Don't. Whatever. I just want you around. Please?"

He stares.

I flutter my lashes.

Without reply, he slowly settles back into a sit, allowing me to retake my comfortable position against his side.

"Thanks… Shaddy."

"Humph," he replies stiffly.

* * *

Thanks so very much for reading. Have a blessed day.

Until next time.


End file.
